December first is here again,
Another year is done,
It's time for hunting Christmas trees
And having loads of fun.
All wrapped in hoods and coats and boots
And full of season cheer
We climb aboard our wagon
To search another year.
The tractor pulls us to the grove
We straddle fence barb-wire.
Then roam among the stately pines
Through sticktights, brush and briar.
We laugh and argue, hem and haw,
And scrutinize each tree,
Then with an axe, yell, "timber"
When we finally all agree.
I'm sure the pines piled high in town
In beauty far excel,
But when it comes to family fun,
It's something they can't sell!