Christmas morning
I'm seven years old
tree lights are twinkling
tinsel shines gold
'modest' describes us
we seem to get by
under our tree
gifts are stacked high
my eyes must deceive me
could it be true
is that a real doll
with eyes of bright blue
Santa has brought me
what I'd dreamed of all year
a doll I can cherish
a doll to hold dear
years pass by quickly
my Phoebe grows old
one eye is missing
sad sight to behold
love my sweet Phoebe
huge part of my life
I'll fix my dear dolly
fix with a knife
find a replacement
glass eye of bright blue
within a few minutes
Phoebe's brand new
