Dear Santa, can you tell me,
How far your reindeer fly;
Or if they pass near heaven,
On your journey through the sky.
Because my little brother,
Is with the angels there;
And maybe he can ride with you,
If Jesus doesn’t care.
I know your sled is always filled;
But Santa, I won’t mind,
If you bring my brother home,
You may leave my toys behind.
There is nothing I would rather find;
Beneath our Christmas tree;
So Santa, dearest Santa,
Please bring him home to me.
Eugene E. Lovas