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It was mid-December, and the snow was still shy,
The grass it was yellow but peeping its eye;
In the snow there were footprints, some big and some small,
The youngsters were playing and having a ball.
We looked across the field and seen a breath in the air,
It was old Uncle Amos in his ninetieth year;
A good many Christmases he'd seen come and go,
He can tell many stories, some that you might know.
He talks of the days when mummers were around,
From one house to another they surely be bound,
To get a taste of that home brew or dogberry wine;
Before its all over we'd all have a time.
On Christmas morning he'd be proud as can be,
When he'd checked his stockin' laid under the tree;
An apple or orange and maybe a truck,
Whatever was there sure was always enough.
As he spoke his last word he wiped off his brow,
"It's sure gettin' cold out so I must go now;
The misses got a feed on and I feels like I'm starved,
If I don't go home soon outdoors I'll be barred."
We took in the scenery as we strolled along,
And listened to the youngsters as they sang their songs:
Jingle Bells, Merry Christmas, and the sweet Silent Night,
The smell of the wood smoke made everything right.
Note: Dave wrote this a couple of years ago when he and Ches Ruth were planning to make a Christmas CD.
See more songs by Double-Minor.
See more Newfoundland and Labrador Christmas songs.
From the Dictionary of Newfoundland English:
Dogberry - the Mountain ash (Pyrus americana); the berries of this tree.
