Old December - Thea Gilmore

Bring, bring, bring it to me

Bright stars on another gilded tree

And for all of this time

There’s a greater surprise

Sing, sing, sing for old December

Time, time, tell me there’s still time

Season, always walks and crooked lines

Any joy that’s been sown

Can hold a candle to the grown

Sing, sing, sing for old December

Old December

Old December

Home, home, I am coming home

Run, run, said the wheel and the microphone

And whoever you praise

Raise a glass to these days

Sing, sing, sing for old December

Yeah, whoever you praise

Raise a glass for these days

And sing, sing, sing for old December

Sing, sing, sing for old December

Sing, sing, sing for old December