Santa, skip my house this year.

There's no point in stopping by.

No one can give me what I want.

Here, I'll tell you why.

Mama's gone, she won't come back,

and with her goes my Christmas cheer.

Daddy left, forgetting me;

I'm all alone this year.

I know it's sad, but it's true,

and so you know, let me say

that Mama meant the world to me.

(I never liked Daddy anyway.)

All I want is to see Mama again

but we both know she's not coming back.

I don't want anything else at all.

Not even presents from your sack.

I know I've been a good girl this year

but give my presents away for me

'cause if you bring them, all they'll do

is sit, unopened, under my tree.

So Santa, skip my house this year.

I promise I won't cry.

My tears all flowed away that day

when Mama said goodbye.

Santa, I guess, if you really must,

I'd be happy if you gave

a small bouquet of mistletoe

to put on my Mama's grave.