For tomorrow, I know

All those Who girls and boys

Will wake bright and early

And race for their toys!

I can see it all now

Just how it will be

Imagine it, Max

Try to see what I see

Tis the morning of Christmas

The forecast is sleet

In they come tripping

On little who-feet

Dear little who-tots

The girls and the boys

Ready to rip through

A mountain of toys

Isn't**t precious?

Or so it would seem

Why do I have the

Distinct urge to scream …?

Ohhhh …

I got a whatchama whatchama who

You got a whatchama? – Me too!

Look, it's a thinga-ma

Thinga-ma ding!

Let's all play with a whatchama thing!