Christmas at the Old Feed Store
Haunted Hills Revival
Christmas at the Old Feed Store
Verse 1
The sign was faded, windows cracked, the porch leaned to one side,
That old bell above the front door hadn’t lost its country pride.
You could buy a sack of sweet feed, hear the weather and the news,
Trade a joke, a prayer, a fishing tale, or somebody else’s boots.
Three generations crossed that floor with coffee in their hands,
If those pine-board walls could talk, they’d tell the story of this land.
Verse 2
Then the highway took the business, bigger stores moved into town,
The lights went out one autumn day, and the shutters all came down.
But when December rolled around, old Miss Clara had a plan,
She said, “Let’s meet there one last time… while we still can.”
Chorus
It’s Christmas at the old feed store,
Where strangers never stayed that way before.
The potluck’s on the grain scale,
Kids are laughing on hay bales.
Someone tuned an old guitar,
And the choir sounds just like our hearts.
No cash register ringing anymore…
Just love echoing through the old feed store.
Verse 3
The preacher blessed the evening where fertilizer once was stacked,
The firemen brought folding chairs, the school band all came back.
Black-and-white photographs were hanging on a clothesline wall,
Every face reminded us that this place had known us all.
Mr. Jenkins wore his coveralls, though he’d been retired years,
He tipped his cap and raised a toast that disappeared in tears.
Chorus
It’s Christmas at the old feed store,
Where strangers never stayed that way before.
The cookie tins and mason jars,
Shine brighter than the Christmas stars.
The children don’t know what we’ll lose,
But someday they’ll tell these stories too.
No cash register ringing anymore…
Just love echoing through the old feed store.
Bridge
Buildings don’t make memories… people always do.
But sometimes four old wooden walls
Can hold a lifetime’s truth.
Tomorrow they’ll lock these doors for good,
Maybe tear them to the ground.
But no wrecking ball could ever take
The soul this town has found.
Final Chorus
It’s Christmas at the old feed store,
One last gathering like a hundred times before.
We sang Silent Night where seed bags stood,
Thanking God for simple good.
The lights went out, the snow fell slow,
Nobody seemed to want to go.
As we stepped into that winter storm,
We carried something so much more.
‘Cause home was never just those boards…
It was Christmas…
At the old feed store.
Outro
Now every Christmas, when church bells ring,
Someone always says with a smile,
“Meet you at the old feed store…”
Even though it isn’t there anymore.