Faster than the speed of light we'll travel through the pitch.
Around the world in minutes, so no time to dodge a witch
who's flying on her broomstick, like in the land of OZ,
or worry about winged monkeys like that sissy lion was.

We won't go down the chimney and leave our presents on the hearth,
but rather on the front porch steps is where we'll leave our mark,
so all can smell the scent of fall and feel the crisp night air.
They'll look up to the sky and know the Great Pumpkin and I were there.

When all the gifts are given, he'll take me home again.
He'll look at me with glowing eyes and with a crooked grin,
then off the six gray squirrels will fly the big orange sleigh in tow.
Back to the field from wence they came, third terrace, second row.