| It’s Christmas day
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| And the snow is coming down
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| Church bells sway
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| They’re ringing awake the town
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| Preacher Kline recites his lines
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| The pews’ll be full today
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| Mr. Howe cranks up his plow
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| His baldes’ll clear the way
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| It’s Christmas day
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| And the pecan pies are baking
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| Mothers say it’s the giving not the taking
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| My brother’s brand new bicycle is out jangling in the street
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| I watch him through the icicles
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| With that wood box beneath my feet
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| Chorus:
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| All I got was this little wood guitar
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| What it brought was neon lights and crowded bars
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| Like all the kings with all thier gold
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| Went chasing down your star I’m told
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| Every highway takes me where you are
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| With this little wood guitar
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| It’s Christmas day
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| Funny how the years can shape us Much has changed
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| I’m a musician not a waitress
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| Chicago’s a winter wonderland
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| At my brother’s and his wife’s
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| Passing around thier dinner plates
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| And dissecting my life
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| Chorus
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| I never stopped believing
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| I just kept on singing
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| Now people come to hear from miles around
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| And I don’t mind confessing
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| That I still count my blessings
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| I just never thought I’d settle down
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| It’s Christmas day
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| And the little one’s are waking
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| I hear them play
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| I can hear the presents shaking
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| The boy’s outside on his new bike
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| Jangling in the street
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| That little girl, she’s watching him
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| With that wood box beneath her feet
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| All she got was this little wood guitar
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| What I thought is it might take her pretty far
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| Like all the kings with all their gold
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| Went chasing down your star I’m told
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| Every highway takes me where you are
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| With this little wood guitar
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| Little wood guitar |