Lyrics

By Chris Hall / Rich Cooley

I could be out in Colorado
Where the snow falls on the mountain peaks
And maybe it be nice in West Virginia
Or somewhere in the hills of Tennessee
I've never been as far as California
To see the lights of the Golden Gate
And I've heard it's warm round Georgia in December
But I'd rather be in my own state

A Smalltown Christmas in New York
Is all I've ever really known
I could go hundred places
See a thousand beautiful faces
But I wouldn't call them home

Maybe if I ever saw Montana
The wide open range would change my mind
I've always wanted to be a Texas cowboy
Ridin' my old mare at Christmas time
Sittin' neath an open sky in Arizona
Playin' "Silent Night" on my guitar
But the closest place to heaven that I know of
Is the place that always warms me from the heart

A Smalltown Christmas in New York
Is all I've ever really known
I could go hundred places
See a thousand beautiful faces
But I wouldn't call them home
No, I wouldn't call them home

Copyright 2014 Rich Cooley / Chris Hall