Hot Buttered Rum (Tommy Thompson) When chimney smoke hangs still and low Across the stubble-fields of snow When angry skys reach down to seize The sorry blackened bones of trees In the dead of winter When the silent snow birds come You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, Hot buttered rum When dreary Christmas decorations Line the streets and filling stations And dime store centers can't disguise Their empty heads and empty eyes In the dead of winter when The tinsel angels come You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, Hot buttered rum When gloves boots and woolen parkas Bring cold comfort to the heart And bitter memories freeze the tongue And songs of love are left unsung In the dead of winter when, If springtime never comes You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, Hot buttered rum note: This song can be depressing if you don't concentrate on the ray of hope at the end of each verse. BX copyright Tommy Thompson, Southern Melody Publishing, BMI Recorded by Bryan Bowers BX OCT98
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