I guess it was 'bout 10 years ago,
while tending herd upon the trail.
The snow was fall'n fast and heavy,
and the goin' 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 its little wings.
When it becomes more at ease,
I hope to listen while it sings.

Then as we rode together,
on down that cold dark trail.
The snow was falling faster,
the wind was at a gale.

As I rounded the next bend,
I saw a tiny fawn look'n bleak.
I bent down to picked it up,
for it was much too weak.

Off again we rode together,
till we came upon my shack.
I stoked up a roar'n fire,
with wood from the 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 was on 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,
as the winter came to pass.
Then came an early spring,
so 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 in which I would ever trade.


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