On the mantel there's a photograph
Of my mother in a winter hat.
She's laughing at the cameraman,
Then the shutter closed, and she'd take my hand and say:
Come back in, child.
Come back inside.
For it's cold out and my nose is getting red.
As a child, I asked Santa for paper dolls,
Watched my parents dance as we decked the halls.
Mama hung the balsam and mistletoe,
While my sisters gathered silver spoons to wish for snow.
Come back in, child.
Come back inside.
For it's cold out and it's time to go to bed.
I could wish to be rich beyond measure,
I could wish to grow wings and fly,
I could wish to have any old treasure,
But all I want is for her to be here.
Give me one more holiday,
And can't you please let my mama stay?
I never needed any gifts,
There's nothing I want more than this:
To be her child,
And by her side,
For it's cold out.
Yes, it's cold out.
It's so cold outside.