Gave the lustre of tango to objects below,

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them some names;

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With a little old driver. . .

. . . Santa Baby!

More rapid than eagles his tongue it did stick,

. . . I knew in a moment it must be. . .

a party of fifty and one tiny reindeer,

. . . so lively and quick,

Ho, ho, ho!

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