Me, to whom you owe your very life.

Oh, don't be silly.

He flies into a fog like a vulture in the sky

There's so many things I cannot grasp

And they call him

Sandy Claws

When I think I've got it and then at last

Well, at least they're excited

Through my bony fingers it does slip

But they don't understand

Like a snowflake in a fiery grip

That special kind of feeling in Christmasland

Something here I'm not quite getting Though I try I keep forgetting

Oh, well.

Like a memory long since past

Here in an instant Gone in a flash

Hmm.

What does it mean What does it mean

We'll send a present to his door Upon there'll be a note to read

Not Sandy Claws! Take him back!