She smiles at him, he says: “Hello.”
They stand beneath the mistletoe,
Embarrassed by the awkward circumstance. 
He asks her if she’d like a drink.
She says: “I better not, I think.
"Oh, what the heck, maybe just one glass.”

They talk about, oh, this and that:
He says: “I like the way you laugh,
"And I’m so really glad you’re here.”

Then suddenly it’s much too warm.
She feels his hand against her arm.
The season loves the reason for romance:
It’ll get you if you give it half a chance.

The night goes on, the music plays,
A moonlight Christmas serenade.
A lovers’ song that’s meant for only two.

And they don’t even know it yet, 
But this is one they’ll not forget.
The holiday where all their dreams came true.

Across the floor he spins her ‘round,
Oh, could it be they’ve finally found,
A love worth waiting for?

Then in the tender Yuletide bliss,
They share an unexpected kiss.
The season loves the reason for romance:
It’ll get you if you give it half a chance.

Then suddenly the night is gone;
It’s late into an early morn.
The season loves the reason for romance:
It’ll get you if you give it half a chance.
 

Lee Ann Womack

Written by Greg Barnhill and Phil Swann