Way above our little town
Sitting high upon the hill
The place we all  called Christmas House
And I think it sits there still

We used to go there sledding
No one once chased us away
That place we all called Christmas House
I wonder if they still sled there today

To us it seemed enormous
All lit up with lights so bright
That place we all called Christmas house
I wonder if it's still lit up tonight

There was a tree in the front window
You could see it from the road
The place we all called Christmas House
It was a palace when it snowed

There were wreaths in all the windows
The arbor covered with red bows
The place we all called Christmas House
I wonder if anybody knows

It's been years since I have seen it
It gave all our hearts a lift
The place we all called Christmas House
To visit there, it was a gift

We went there every winter
We would sled, have snowball fights
The place we all called Christmas House
Was always lit so bright

One thing I remember though
In all my time upon the hill
The place we all called Christmas House
Was always quiet, empty, still

I know it's been near forty years
Since I left home, moved away
The place we all called Christmas House
Still sticks with me today

It's a memory of a better time
When  the winters were much colder
The place we all called Christmas House
Makes me forget that I got older

I've dug out my old sled this year
To take  home, back to the start
To the place we all called Christmas House
Is on a hill, and in my heart

it's white
so pure
so fresh
so clean
so tell me why the red that flows
looks like a scar, so mean?
it's sparkly
so fluffy
so new
so light
so tell me why the red that flows
looks just like blood, so bright?
it's racing and racing
and flowing and falling
leaves a scrape and a streak
as it runs down the peak
a strange sled of red
down a white snowy head

Winter can be fun too,
For me and you.
Goodbye  to heat waves,
And iced chilled drinks you crave.
Adieus to flies bugs and bees,
Hay fever, poison ivy and also allergies.
Appetites increase,
Cooking and baking never cease,
Not to forget mending and sewing,
And over a cup of hot tea gossiping.
Fire-places aglow,
Whilst landscape is carpeted with snow,
Children enjoy indoor games in the basement below.
Sled riding, ice skating,
tobagonning, and making snowman can be fun,
With the promise of a glowing sun.
In the mornings dad's car can be stubborn,
But a little wooing and engine warm up it can be won.
Winter too is happy time,
More time for poetry, with rhythm and rhyme.