Writers Robert Sherman, Richard Sherman



Let them go, let them go

Let them try their wings

Little birds were born to fly

Not until they're home

And they miss their home

And it won't be long 'til Christmas

When the branches appear

That'll descent the air

Comes alive with frost and pine

And they'll yearn to be

By the family tree

Oh, it won't be long 'til Christmas

The years go by

And every night you'll say

Sweet dreams, sleep tight

Then there comes the day

You're forced to say

Don't forget to write

There'll be holly and popcorn and mistletoe

There'll be songs by the fireplace

Oh, it won't be long 'til Christmas

Let them go

Let them go

Let them go

Let them go