| lyric | 1. Winds though the olive trees softly did blow,
round little Bethlehem long, long ago.
Sheep on the hillsides lay white as the snow,
shepherds were watching them, long ago.
2. Then from the happy skies angels bent low,
singing their songs o joy long, long ago.
For in this manger bed, cradled we know,
Christ came to Bethlehem long, long ago. |