Jolly old Saint 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.
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.
Jolly old Saint 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.