Jolly old St. Nicholas, Lean your ear this way!
Don't you tell a single soul, What I'm going to say;
Christmas Eve is coming soon, Now, you dear old man,
Whisper what you'll bring to me: Tell me if you can.
What it's gonna be, Santa. Underneath the tree, Santa.
What it's gonna be, Santa. Leave this year for me.
What it's gonna be Santa. Underneath the tree Santa.
What it's gonna be Santa. Leave this year for me.
When the clock is striking twelve, When I'm fast asleep,
Down the chimney broad and black, With your pack you'll creep.
All the stockings you will find Hanging in a row;
Mine will be the shortest one, You'll be sure to know.
What it's gonna be, Santa. Underneath the tree, Santa.
What it's gonna be, Santa. Leave this year for me.
What it's gonna be, Santa. Underneath the tree, Santa.
What it's gonna be, Santa. Leave this year for me.

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