(Bridges/Holdridge)
|
A frosty Christmas Eve, when the stars where shining,
|
I traveled for the home, where westward falls the hill.
|
And for many, many a village, in the darkness of the valley,
|
distant music reached me, peels of bells were ringing.
|
|
Then spread my thoughts to olden times, to that first of Christmases
|
when shepherds who were watching, heard music in the fields.
|
And they sat there and they marveled, and they knew they could not tell
|
whether it were angels, or the bright stars a singing.
|
|
But to me heard a far, it was starry music,
|
the singing of the angels, the comfort of our Lord.
|
Words of old that come a traveling, by the riches of the times,
|
and I softly listened, as I stood upon the hill.
|
And I softly listened, as I stood upon the hill.
|
|
-----------------
|
Noel: Christmas Eve 1913
|
| John Denver |
