Lyrics
(Such a big city, such a small boy)
Almost everyone knows about little tiny Tim in the Christmas story
I'd like to tell you about Randy the newspaper boy
Randy lived in Big Town, USA
If you saw him, you really couldn't
Pick him out from any other newsboy
Randy was a little younger than the rest
His clothing was a little tattered, but
You might mark that off as just plain boy
Randy was different, though
You would have noticed that difference if you had followed
Him home on Christmas Eve after the last paper was sold
If you had been a storekeeper at a small toy shop
You would have seen a rosy-cheeked face peering through
The frosty glass with eyes that were welled with tears
Eyes that seemed to tell of a young heart that was broken
With the realism of life and the coldness of the night
And possibly the thought that Santa Claus was a myth
(Such a big city, such a small boy)
If you were that storekeeper, you would have seen this young
Lad of seven turn his eyes away from the bikes and the
Thousands of other things that could put a sparkle in his eyes
Then trudge off into the crisp snow, finally
Vanishing into the darkness of the night
If you had been a patrolling policeman on that Christmas Eve
You would have seen young Randy climb the creaky stairs of the
Tenement dwelling with a face that's peculiar to only sad young boys
Then that dim flash at the top of the stairs
That indicated that Randy was now inside
If you had been the walls of that tenement dwelling, you would
Have heard Randy's light voice telling his grandfather, who was
Now bedfast for his remaining days, that he had sold all of his
Papers and it didn't matter if Santa didn't bring him anything
Because all he wanted was to be with his grandfather on Christmas Eve
(Such a big city, such a small boy)
If you had been the closet in the bedroom, you would have seen young
Randy lying awake with silent tears in his eyes
A sad awareness that Christmas morning would be
In reality, just another morning for Randy
Then, a final sigh and Randy falling into a sad sleep
What a rude, hard plight for such a gentle lad, alone in
The world with a bedridden grandfather who could never
Bring the wonderment of Santa Claus on Christmas morning
The crushing blow that Santa was a myth
If you had been the fireplace, wise with age, you would have seen
The look of reverent awe on the face of a young newsboy named
Randy when he awoke on Christmas morning and beheld all the
Toys he had wanted in the toy store window just the night before
It's not very important as to how those toys got into the living room
Let's just say that maybe there is a Santa Claus
Almost everyone knows about little tiny Tim in the Christmas story
I'd like to tell you about Randy the newspaper boy
Randy lived in Big Town, USA
If you saw him, you really couldn't
Pick him out from any other newsboy
Randy was a little younger than the rest
His clothing was a little tattered, but
You might mark that off as just plain boy
Randy was different, though
You would have noticed that difference if you had followed
Him home on Christmas Eve after the last paper was sold
If you had been a storekeeper at a small toy shop
You would have seen a rosy-cheeked face peering through
The frosty glass with eyes that were welled with tears
Eyes that seemed to tell of a young heart that was broken
With the realism of life and the coldness of the night
And possibly the thought that Santa Claus was a myth
(Such a big city, such a small boy)
If you were that storekeeper, you would have seen this young
Lad of seven turn his eyes away from the bikes and the
Thousands of other things that could put a sparkle in his eyes
Then trudge off into the crisp snow, finally
Vanishing into the darkness of the night
If you had been a patrolling policeman on that Christmas Eve
You would have seen young Randy climb the creaky stairs of the
Tenement dwelling with a face that's peculiar to only sad young boys
Then that dim flash at the top of the stairs
That indicated that Randy was now inside
If you had been the walls of that tenement dwelling, you would
Have heard Randy's light voice telling his grandfather, who was
Now bedfast for his remaining days, that he had sold all of his
Papers and it didn't matter if Santa didn't bring him anything
Because all he wanted was to be with his grandfather on Christmas Eve
(Such a big city, such a small boy)
If you had been the closet in the bedroom, you would have seen young
Randy lying awake with silent tears in his eyes
A sad awareness that Christmas morning would be
In reality, just another morning for Randy
Then, a final sigh and Randy falling into a sad sleep
What a rude, hard plight for such a gentle lad, alone in
The world with a bedridden grandfather who could never
Bring the wonderment of Santa Claus on Christmas morning
The crushing blow that Santa was a myth
If you had been the fireplace, wise with age, you would have seen
The look of reverent awe on the face of a young newsboy named
Randy when he awoke on Christmas morning and beheld all the
Toys he had wanted in the toy store window just the night before
It's not very important as to how those toys got into the living room
Let's just say that maybe there is a Santa Claus