n...now Christmas is gorn.
Shrug off your tinsel collar Thorn.
Dinner is still served with love, and many hands reach to pat you, from above...oh Thorn.
The young gals may be long gorn, Thorn, they who fluttered round you like rainbow butterflies, and coated your ears with melodious cries...
Oh handsome Thorn, don't look so sad. The old boiler who pats you for now is not so bad, if you
squint in candlelight. And Candlelight is so cheap just like she is too.
They'll be back to pat you, to caress you to throw you little titbits of such a splendorous variety to make you gasp...OH Thorn...don't look so forlorn.
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