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