There’s a big fine tree trimmed in luxury with a million beads and bows,
And a thousand miles of twinkling lights all wrapped around in rows.
It’s not at all like the tree so small we had so long ago,
But every Christmas tree I see reminds me of my home.
I’ve rambled ‘round, been lost, been found from Maine to Mexico.
My whole life long I’ve heard the song of that ‘ol lonesome road.
But in December I remember where my weary soul belongs.
The trees of Christmas call my heart back home.
There’s a real live tree on the village green where the townsfolk can be found.
There’s a tiny tree for a family in a little house in town.
Whether grand and tall or meek and small, they’re all the same to me.
Love is found where hearts are gathered ‘round the Christmas tree.
I’ve rambled ‘round, been lost, been found from Maine to Mexico.
My whole life long I’ve heard the song of that ‘ol lonesome road.
But in December I remember where my weary soul belongs.
The trees of Christmas call my heart back home.
