There’s a mystical route to the far North Pole
Where Santa Claus holds full sway;
And a smile or a kiss is the only toll
On letters that go that way.
The old folks are barred from this postal line,
And only the children know
The secret, mystical, wonderful sign
That hurries their letters so.
The Wonderful Route of the Dancing Flame
Is the name the swift line bears.
‘Twas Santa who gave it the beautiful name,
And children hold all the shares.
Their letters are written with many a quirk
And dropped in the red flames bright;
Then, quicker than thought, they do the work
And hurry them out of sight.
And Santa, who sits by the far North Pole,
Surrounded by oodles of toys,
Laughs loud in his glee when the letters roll
By millions from girls and boys.
Each stamp is a kiss from the sweetest of lips,
And Santa is wondrous wise;
For each from the letter he quickly clips
And holds as a precious prize.
The Wonderful Route of the Dancing Flame
Is laden with childish dreams;
And visions of joy and hours of play
Are born in the firelight’s gleams.
A wonderful route — and the letters fly
On wings that are tipped with light;
And each dimpling cheek and each shining eye
Insures them the quickest flight.
