I wouldn't mind having a tumbleweed for a Christmas Tree, but every year my family says no. Not just a plain no, but a STRONG no.
Well, they can't say no to me writing songs:
"O Christmas Tumbleweed, O Christmas Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.
O Christmas Tumbleweed, O Christmas Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.
We rolled you in without a doubt,
when Christmas's done we'll roll you out.
O Christmas Tumbleweed, O Christmas Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke."
Love the song.
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