'Twas the night before Christmas
The moon shining bright
I met you standing on the corner
Of twenty-first and fifth
You said, "You've got the soul of a painter
But you look like a thief"
And I tapped my hat and brushed my boots
"You know, I must agree"
It was sometime past seven
You said your shift was at eight
I held my breath, I asked you
Should I save us two plates?
You said
"I like the wind and the puff in your cheeks"
"But ask me again come next Christmas Eve"
And in between summers
We traveled and sang
And sometimes at night
You'd let me wear your shirt with my name
And now it's December
It's cold on my feet
Open up my door to get rid of my keys
And oh, there you are, but you seem loose at the seams