Writers Robert Sherman, Richard Sherman Let them go, let them go Let them try their wings Little birds were born to fly Not until they're home And they miss their home And it won't be long 'til Christmas When the branches appear That'll descent the air Comes alive with frost and pine And they'll yearn to be By the family tree Oh, it won't be long 'til Christmas The years go by And every night you'll say Sweet dreams, sleep tight Then there comes the day You're forced to say Don't forget to write There'll be holly and popcorn and mistletoe There'll be songs by the fireplace Oh, it won't be long 'til Christmas Let them go Let them go Let them go Let them go
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