A mountain of ice that isn’t cold,
A sea of chocolate that isn’t wet,
With rainbow swirls, dizzy and bold,
A mountain of ice that isn’t cold,
It’s staring through the glass, waiting to be sold.
Candles soon to be lit, the table set,
A mountain of ice that isn’t cold,
A sea of chocolate that isn’t wet,

Flames will dance atop the hill.
Flickering lights, shining eyes,
We don’t need the flames to warm the chill.
Flames will dance atop the hill.
Happy children will not keep still.
A familiar tune ends with shouts and cries.
Flames will dance atop the hill.
Flickering lights, shining eyes