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lyrics
Snowflakes are fallin’ from the ashen grey sky
And the river still runs down below
As I remember my home in December
On an old wooden porch in the snow
In the pines, oh the pines, in their snow covered lines
Cross a beautiful hill of white gold
The river, the river, it’s starting to shiver
I’m alone with my thoughts in the cold
These new boots were made to get old
A fire is burning inside of the cabin
No heat, but there’s warmth all around
The smoke is a risin’, fades to the horizon
The snow collects on the ground
The trees, oh the trees, asleep in the freeze
Every year their future foretold
The fire, the fire, it burns with desire
And the wind from the north starts to scold
These new boots were made to get old
Snowflakes are fallin’ as the sun says goodnight
Another day starts to end much too soon
The river and it’s song, keep going strong
The sun bids good day to the moon
The night, oh the night, when the moon shines so bright
And the last hand of cards starts to fold
The snow, the snow, under a full moon does glow
A picture for years I will hold
These new boots were made to get old
Pat Harris is a bassist, songwriter, composer, producer and arranger residing in Austin, TX. Originally from Michigan, he has had the honor of performing with many extraordinary musicians in countless different settings.
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