It's the little things that get ya,
Insignificant as they seem,
The toys, the bells, the wreaths and such,
The sugarplums in your dreams.
Yeah, it's the little things that get ya,
When the holidays come near,
The ties, the shoes, the pocketwatch
Of ones that we held dear.
Yes, it's the little things that get ya,
No matter how near or far,
The pots, the pans, the recipes
The hand-made silver star.
Not only do we reminisce,
And count our meager score,
It's the little things that get ya
When you're cleaning out a drawer.
For sometimes when we're happiest,
We're really very sad,
These little things sure get ya,
The memories of mom and dad.
Sure, it's the little things that get ya,
When you're blue at Christmas time,
You try to go for all the carols,
And think of "Auld Lang Syne."
The days gone by all come full force,
At the closing of every year,
And try as you may you cannot help
But wipe away the tears.
While all these times and things and such,
Are just little things to some,
Don't you know they really get ya,
When all the holidays come. ~ Richard A. (Dick) Taylor