I'd like to be the sort of friend thatyou have been to me;I'd like to be the help thatyou've been always glad to be;I'd like to mean as much to youeach minute of the dayAs you have meant, old friend of mine,to me along the way.I'd like to do the big things andthe splendid things for you,To brush the gray from out your skiesand leave them only blue;I'd like to say the kindly things thatI so oft have heard,And feel that I could rouse your soulthe way that mine you've stirred.I'd like to give you back the joythat you have given me,Yet that were wishing you a needI hope will never be;I'd like to make you feel as rich as I,who travel onUndaunted in the darkest hours with you tolean upon.I'm wishing at this time that Icould but repayA portion of the gladness thatyou've strewn along my way;And could I have one wish this year,this only would it be:I'd like to be the sort of friendthat you have been to me.