ThomasRedheart

<p><strong>Christmas Morning in Harmony Creek</strong></p><p><strong>Lyrics By: Thomas W. Peterson AKA RedHeart&nbsp;</strong></p><p><strong>©COPYRIGHT 11–9-2025 All Rights Reserved ©</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Verse 1)</strong></p><p><strong>The frost is thick on the window pane, the sun is coming up slow,</strong></p><p><strong>But inside the kitchen, there's a happy sound, where the good times always flow.</strong></p><p><strong>Mama’s apron is dusted with flour white, she’s humming an old hymn,</strong></p><p><strong>The coffee is brewing black and strong, filling up to the brim.</strong></p><p><strong>The little ones are tearing through paper, the ribbons tossed aside,</strong></p><p><strong>But the real gold is waiting down the road, where the whole town can abide.</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Chorus)</strong></p><p><strong>Oh, it’s Christmas Morning in Harmony Creek, down at the community hall,</strong></p><p><strong>Where the smell of smokehouse ham and sweet potato pie covers it all.</strong></p><p><strong>The biscuits are piled up high as a stack, the collards are simmering low,</strong></p><p><strong>There ain't no need for diamonds here, just the Georgia light and snow.</strong></p><p><strong>Yeah, we trade the gifts for gravy and grace, and the simplest kind of prayer,</strong></p><p><strong>For the kind of Christmas magic you find when everybody is there.</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Verse 2)</strong></p><p><strong>I see old Silas Jenkins driving up, in his wagon clean and neat,</strong></p><p><strong>He’s not a man for chatter much, but he knows what makes life sweet.</strong></p><p><strong>The Mayor’s wife brought her famous bread, laced with cinnamon and spice,</strong></p><p><strong>And Mrs. Gable’s divinity candy, is always worth the price.</strong></p><p><strong>We're laughing loud and talking slow, about the year that’s gone,</strong></p><p><strong>Watching Martha Miller’s velvet bow still pinned before the dawn.</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Chorus)</strong></p><p><strong>Oh, it’s Christmas Morning in Harmony Creek, down at the community hall,</strong></p><p><strong>Where the smell of smokehouse ham and sweet potato pie covers it all.</strong></p><p><strong>The biscuits are piled up high as a stack, the collards are simmering low,</strong></p><p><strong>There ain't no need for diamonds here, just the Georgia light and snow.</strong></p><p><strong>Yeah, we trade the gifts for gravy and grace, and the simplest kind of prayer,</strong></p><p><strong>For the kind of Christmas magic you find when everybody is there.</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Bridge)</strong></p><p><strong>We pause before we eat a bite, and hold a neighbor's hand,</strong></p><p><strong>Thankful for the small-town peace that settles on this land.</strong></p><p><strong>No rush, no fuss, just love and faith, beneath the magnolia wreath,</strong></p><p><strong>Knowing the sweetest feast is the family gathered underneath.</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Pre-Chorus)</strong></p><p><strong>That pecan pie is a sticky delight, made from the nuts we shelled last fall,</strong></p><p><strong>A deep dish of sunshine, baked just right, the kind that answers a sweet tooth call.</strong></p><p><strong>Yeah, the simplest things are the best you see, when we gather 'round the light,</strong></p><p><strong>Just grits, greens, and good company, making the season bright.</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Chorus)</strong></p><p><strong>Oh, it’s Christmas Morning in Harmony Creek, down at the community hall,</strong></p><p><strong>Where the smell of smokehouse ham and sweet potato pie covers it all.</strong></p><p><strong>The biscuits are piled up high as a stack, the collards are simmering low,</strong></p><p><strong>There ain't no need for diamonds here, just the Georgia light and snow.</strong></p><p><strong>Yeah, we trade the gifts for gravy and grace, and the simplest kind of prayer,</strong></p><p><strong>For the kind of Christmas magic you find when everybody is there.</strong></p><p><br></p><p><strong>(Outro)</strong></p><p><strong>The plates are scraped, the coffee's gone, the kids are running free,</strong></p><p><strong>Another memory made right here, for all the world to see.</strong></p><p><strong>Just Harmony Creek, plain and true, on a beautiful Christmas Day,</strong></p><p><strong>Yeah, that's the only place I ever want to spend my holiday.</strong></p><p><strong>Just give me the biscuits and the gravy, and the grace to stay.</strong></p>