chilly winter morning greets us as we leap out of bed,
our bare feet fly across the icy-cold floor,
We dash down the stairs into the warmth of
where Mother stands over the big black stove preparing hotcakes
The flames in the old pot-bellied dance and lick in the air,
we know this is another very special day,
Dad comes in from the cold all bundled up tight,
his nose glowing red, white flakes dusting his coat,
in his hands he holds the prize he's worked so hard on.........
the beautiful Christmas Wreath!