Little David was our son, born on Christmas day Blind at birth, he never saw the harp his fingers played The harp that came the day he was born, from where we just don't know A harp like none you've ever seen, for it was solid gold Little David learned to play it at such an early age No one had to teach him, he just learned it right away And we would stare in disbelief as his hands moved 'cross the strings And when he played, it seemed to be you could hear the angels sing He was four, then he was five, and then he was six years old And the songs he played on his harp were something to behold There was something heavenly in the way that David smiled Little David was so different from the average child Then there was a storm on Christmas morning And the snow brought such a chill Little David's seven now, lays so quiet and still His hands reached out to touch his harp, as gently he caressed it The angels came for him that night and on the seventh year he rested Little David's playing now in God's angel band He's gone home to Heaven now, the way that it was planned But on his birthday every year, which falls on Christmas day All through the house we hear the harp that little David played