I hear a sound and turn to see. A new direction on that rusty weather vane. Suddenly the dead brown leaves are stirred. To scratch their circle dances down the lane.
You're all smiles and silly conversations. As if this sunny day came just for you. You twist your hair, your smile and you turn your eyes away. Come on, tell me what's right with you.
What child is this who laid to rest. On Mary's lap is sleeping. Whom angels greet with anthems sweet. While shepherds watch are keeping. . This, this is Christ the King.
Leave it alone, don't analyze. 'Cause love can be your lullaby. But love can be your hurricane too. And love can take your breath away. But love can leave you lonely and blue.
Tears are falling. Hearts are breaking. How we need to hear from God. You've been promised. We've been waiting. Welcome, Holy Child. Welcome, Holy Child.
I saw her for the first time, when the snow was falling down. And Lord, she was the cutest thing I've ever seen. Great big green eyes a flashin' ruby lips a smilin'.
Discouraged is the word these days at homes across the range. The livestock markets down and it don't look like it's gonna change. And nobody's found a cure for what we're goin' through.
Well, I'm just a workin' man's dollar. In the pocket of his old blue jeans. I ain't like my Wall Street brother. He's in a bank so shiny and clean. . Well, I'm faded and I'm wrinkled.
When he was a boy dreamed of bein' a man. Probably dreamed every thing that a young boy can. He's a lover a fighter a saddle bronc rider an all around hell of a hand.
Three fingers whiskey pleasures a drinker. But moving does more than that drinking for me. Willy he tells me that doers and thinkers say moving's the closest thing to being free.
A bunch of old cowboys are making their noise. At the rodeos across the land. They're all over forty but let me tell you Lordy. They're still tough rodeo hands.
I've been workin' all week long out in the saddle. I lay my bed roll down at night out on the range. Cursin' dust and heat and the flies and cattle. All this romance can drive a poor cowboy insane.
There's lots of pretty cowgirls but this you may not know. There's a very special kind at every rodeo. Her husband is a cowboy she's his greatest fan.
When I was a lad an old cowboy told me well son you're sure ridin' well. There's fame and there's fortune. And glory waitin' at the end of the rodeo trail.
Most of the time, things are pretty sublime. In this little one horse town. Well, they close all the stores and they roll up the streets. When the evening sun goes down.
Talk is so cheap anybody can say. They're gonna give you endless love. Then turn their back and just walk away. When the going gets a little rough. . But when I took your hand.
Well, I spent half my life out on the highway. Chasin' rodeos through every little town. In an old pickup truck with a little cowboy luck. Well, I never thought I'd ever settle down.
The Nashville friends, they think I'm strange. To make my home out on the range. They think it's nothin' but a God forsaken land. Why don't you bring your guitar and family, move on down to Tennessee.
Why you mad, why you mad, why you mad girl?. Why you mad, why you mad, why you mad girl?. Why you mad, why you mad, why you mad girl?. Why you mad, why you mad girl?.