It was exciting again at the Christmas tree farm, Another year had passed;

the little trees were full of hope, it was that time of year at last.


And proud they stood all in a row, hoping this would be the year;

that they could stand in someone's home, and bring that home some cheer.


So perfectly shaped they tried to be, and grow into a perfect form;

and be selected for Christmas day, that's why a Christmas tree is born.


They eagerly awaited the Christmas tree farmer, hoping to catch his eye;

so they could fulfill their purpose for living, and not be passed by.


Not to be chosen is a terrible thing, rejection can be felt by a tree;

to be left behind on a lonely hillside, Oh, please don't let it happen to me.


I want to be taken to a little cottage, I'll make them happy, I'll make them grin;

I'll shelter all the presents, and be loved by the little children.


On Christmas day, the joy I'll share, I'll be clean, and Oh so neat;

for this is my reason for living and growing, and my life will have been complete.


Oh, here comes the farmer and he's looking at me, Oh, please take me this year;

I'll do a good job as a Christmas tree, Dear Sir, you have nothing to fear.


He's passing me by, and leaving me to stand, alone on this lonely hillside;

unbearable is the shame that I feel, I wish that I could die.


I heard him say, "I was crooked, not fit for a Christmas tree";

Is it true? am I that ugly, that no one would ever want me?


I didn't mean to grow this way, I tried my best to be straight;

I tried harder than my brethren trees, Oh, what an awful fate.


Now I'll never be loved, nor share joy on Christmas day;

while others are happy in a home so warm, I'll be lonely under a sky dark and gray.


Oh, why did I ever grow? or sprout from the ground below;

no one wants me or loves me, from this world I wish I could go.


The little Christmas tree, was left standing all alone;

where once ten thousand stood, a Christmas tree without a home.


The days passed slow, the nights were lonely and dreary;

there seemed to be no purpose in living, for the rejected Christmas tree.


On Christmas eve, a poor country boy, out searching for a Christmas tree;

said, "I can't believe they left you, you're just perfect for me".


So he carried the little tree home, both as happy as happy can be;

it's hard to say who was happier, him, or the little Christmas tree.


Although, the decorations were few, the love in that home was real;

and the little Christmas tree, was beaming with joy you could feel.


At last, at last, my purpose for living, and Christmas I have helped to build;

and they see no imperfection in me, my life has been fulfilled.