Bout three nights before every Christmas,
we'd load mister Bradley's truck with hay.
Seven thirty on the dot, on the church parking lot,
we'd pile in that old truck and ride away.
Just a bunch of kids singing Christmas carols,
to the hospital, and the old folks home.
Some times we'd go in and sing um all again,
to a shut in who was living all alone.
Singing Joy to the world the Lord is come,
let earth receive her king.
and at Christmas each year,
I still love to hear,
the carols those kids used to sing.
Then one year all of us decided,
every one would bring some food on Christmas eve,
bought a turkey and some toys for some under privileged 
boys,
who lived with there grandma on relief,
she had told them there wouldn't be a Christmas,
and the look on there faces I still see,
I'm glad for what we did,
cause we made some happy kids,
dance around were there might have been a tree.
Singing Joy to the world the Lord is come,
let earth receive her king.
and at Christmas each year,
I still love to hear,
the carols those kids used to sing.
Singing Joy to the world the Lord is come,
let earth receive her king.
and at Christmas each year,
I still love to hear,
the carols those kids used to sing.
Singing Joy to the world the Lord is come,
let earth receive her king.
and at Christmas each year,
I still love to hear,
the carols those kids used to sing.