Tomb is Empty - Kijan Boone

City Sidewalks Busy Sidewalks Dressed in Holiday Style In the Air There's a Feeling of Christmas Children Laughing People Passing Meeting Smile After Smile And On Every Street Corner You'll Hear Chorus: Silver Bells, Silver Bells Silver Bells, Silver Bells It's Christmas Time in the City Hear Them Ring, Hear Them Ring Ring a Ling, Ring a Ling Soon It Will Be Christmas Day Chorus: Silver Bells, Silver Bells Silver Bells, Silver Bells It's Christmas Time in the City Hear Them Ring, Hear Them Ring Ring a Ling, Ring a Ling Soon It Will Be Christmas Day Soon It Will Be Christmas Day

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas Just like the ones I used to know Where the treetops glisten and children listen To hear sleigh bells in the snow I'm dreaming of a white Christmas With every Christmas card I write May your days be merry and bright And may all your Christmases be white (I'm dreaming of a white Christmas Just like the ones I used to know) Where the treetops glisten and children listen To hear sleigh bells in the snow I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...

Boone had a colt and a frying pan A quarter horse, American Half a heart, fully a man And the greed of Eve and ol' Satan Boone stole nickels and Boone stole dimes To fill the hole and mask his pride Though his mother said that the way of life Was ever better in a poor man's mind But Boone found that he had no peace Licking the dirt and kicking the streets Till he gambled a cent and came back with three Bad bad Boone became a thief No good could be found in Boone No Robin Hood and no whistled tune To the guilt of God he was immune As that cursed greed just grew and grew He had no wife, no boundary line No cowboy code or moral sight No child that he wouldn't fight No widow safe from the cheatin' lies What hurt another, ain't hurt him He'd do anything for a pretty little gem A coin in the bank, worth a whole damn limb Cash ever flowing, spirit so grim Rich in pocket, poor in love His soul went down and the money went up He died before he could fill his cup And what a pointless life that was Ain't no money gonna bring Boone back From dust he came and that's what lasts Good ol' dirt, we all shall pass The rich the poor, both withered grass Here lays Boone, so fully man Forgotten on his piece of land And buried with his frying pan And the greed of Eve and ol' Satan