All I want for Christmas is a tumbleweed

I wrote this little verse several years ago with the hope of convincing my wife we needed a tumbleweed for a Christmas Tree.
I'm still hoping.

O Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.
O Tumbleweed, O 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 Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.

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