"I'll Be Home For Christmas", Frank Sinatra.
When we'd listen to this song at my grandma's house, she would get sad about my uncle, who lived in Los Angeles, and never did come home for Christmas. It is unclear whether he did come home for Christmas in his dreams. Having never lived more than an hour's drive away from my own parents, I can't relate to the specifics of the song. There's also never been snow, mistletoe, or "presents on the tree" at one of my Christmases.
I'm not sure how far back in Christmas tree history you have to go to find the time when presents were hung from the tree. I think it's clear that any presents that can be successfully suspended from branches are probably some crappy-ass gifts. I bet people that put presents on the tree also open their presents on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas Day. And yet, our singer is so sad and lonely, these tiny tree gifts haunt his dreams.
I've never been away for Christmas, though once I was in Utah on my dad's birthday. If I had to write my own version of this carol, it would be something like:
"I'll be home for Dad's birthday
You can count on me
Please make us hike
And ride a bike
And watch British soccer on TV
Dad's birthday will find me
Nursing my sore feet
I'll be home for dad's birthday
As long as there's salami and animal cookies to eat."