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We're scrapping the sleigh."
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Me own son
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who used to sit where you sat, looking up at me.
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I just wanted them to remember
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who I used to be.
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I was a bit like you, lad. Keen as cranberry.
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So was your dad.
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You get old, that's all.
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Everything changes.
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Does it?
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How can I ever write another letter saying that Santa cares?
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Good night, Dad.