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Little David was our son, born on Christmas day
Blind at birth, he never saw the harp his fingers played
The harp that came the day he was born, from where we just don't know
A harp like none you've ever seen, for it was solid gold
Little David learned to play it at such an early age
No one had to teach him, he just learned it right away
And we would stare in disbelief as his hands moved 'cross the strings
And when he played, it seemed to be you could hear the angels sing
He was four, then he was five, and then he was six years old
And the songs he played on his harp were something to behold
There was something heavenly in the way that David smiled
Little David was so different from the average child
Then there was a storm on Christmas morning
And the snow brought such a chill
Little David's seven now, lays so quiet and still
His hands reached out to touch his harp, as gently he caressed it
The angels came for him that night and on the seventh year he rested
Little David's playing now in God's angel band
He's gone home to Heaven now, the way that it was planned
But on his birthday every year, which falls on Christmas day
All through the house we hear the harp that little David played
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