Little bells ringing, red ribbon bows, the hymns they are singing The highs and the lows, the green limbs are blinking The presents below, they won't be the same, without you I know Chocolate letters, spell them together, sounding initials Let's make it official, shapes in old glass hanging Names on stockings, scripted in cursive They don't make them like that anymore Oldest to youngest, and nearest to furthest, taking turns wearing the hat Where do your thoughts go, at the first snow? Mine go to the township of Wainfleet, Ontario And when I come home, and I park in the driveway When I'll be home, from a long way away And back to our family, our new baby Though some things are different, some are always the same But they don't make them like that anymore Little bells ringing, red ribbon bows, the hymns they are singing The highs and the lows, the green limbs are blinking The presents below, they won't be the same, without you I know