He Calls This Place His Home
He could hear his horse blowin' as he watched the trail dust rise
And he looked down in the valley where the old bunkhouse lies
A few large flakes were fallin' an' tomorrow would be white
A proper thing for Christmas day, he hoped it snowed all night
He'd give his hoss some extra oats and rub him down a mite
He shore deserved some extra care on this partic'lar night
Tomorrow he knew he'd wish for a fam'ly of his own
But he'd be warm and he'd eat well and wouldn't be alone
He thought of Christmas with his folks way back in Tennessee
But he'd got his taste of Texas and this is where he'll be
Tomorrow he'll be thankful for that birth in the manger
And pray that His birthday comforts all the folks in danger
Then he'll take time to think about that blue eyed girl in town
He just wondered how she'd look in a long white wedding gown
Maybe next Christmas will find him in a home of his own
But he's in the bunkhouse now and he calls this place his home
December, 2016
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