I guess it was 'bout 10 years ago,
while tending herd upon the trail.
The snow was fall'n fast and heavy,
and the go'n was like a snail.
'Twas Christmas eve and all alone,
while coming down off that hill.
Then down upon the ground below
a tiny bird frozen to the quill.
I picked it up; put it in my vest,
so it could warm up its little wings.
As it becomes more at ease,
I hope it lets me listen while it sings.
Then as we rode together
on down that cold dark trail.
The snow was falling faster,
and the wind was at a gale.
As I rounded the next bend
I saw this tiny fawn look'n bleak.
I bent down and picked it up
for it was much too weak.
Off again we rode along together
till we came to the line shack.
I stoked up a roar'n fire,
with the wood from stack.
Together we cuddled closer
then we slowly fell asleep.
Not a word was spoken
not even a tiny peep.
Then came Christmas morning,
the house all warm and snug,
The bird upon the mantle,
the fawn upon the rug.
I gave them a little food,
to celebrate on this day.
Some bread for the bird
and the fawn a little hay.
We became friends together
and the winter came to pass.
Then came an early spring,
they played out in the grass.
Now I thank my heavenly father
for the new friends I have made.
I don't think this Christmas,
is one for which I'd trade. |
