It was Christmas Eve the night your poor Maw died son And I reckon she prayed all of her life that she could raise you to be twenty-one Me and you never moved into town boy we just kept on livin' out here Aw and life's been good and bad Son for the past twenty-one years Oh I remember now when you were a little fella and I used to take my boy to church And when you sang the Christmas carols with the other boys oh it gave Daddy's heart a jerk Why you sounded a lot like a little angel Boy
And to Papa you sure looked sweet Even though your little ragged britches came half way to your skinny little knees Oh and it made your Poppa proud boy and it filled my ole heart with joy The Preacher'd step down and he'd pat your head and he say My my got yourself a fine little boy Well maybe my life down here's about over boy Maybe my days on earth's about done Maybe now I'll see your Mama and live with the Lord boy But Merry Christmas to you and a happy birthday Son