A box full of treasure
And a golden comb
I will surely give to you
When the moon is done
And Christmas is in June

I will paint an evening
Of which there will be few
When the sky is water
And the sun is blue
And all this is just for you

A handkerchief of silver
To brush away your tear
A sword of finest leather
To match your paper spear
For when the day draws near

When I will write these words
In languages unknown
I'll be the one to tell you
Your heart is made of stone
And Christmas will never be in June