that's the song that he hums
Pitching hay for the cattle,
and he's got horses to run
is like tinsel that shines
His Christmas lights are stars
And his Christmas cookies
are ham biscuits he fried
Just his old cattle dog Gus
Glass raised to his maker
Strong cup of coffee, beans and cornbread
No visions of sugar plums
Just dreams of an old love
If he could hold her again
Barbed wire wrapped in spokes
No mistletoe, no sweetheart
Just the warmth of a fire
and his old cattle dog guns
Glass raised to his maker,
and then the firelights glow
And reads the story of Jesus,
His Christmas lights are stars
His Christmas cookies are
Just his old cattle dog Gus
Glass raised to his maker
He'll tip his hat to his maker
Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm
