Cowboy's night before Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the land,
Not a creature was stirring, as it was too cold to stand.
The hay wagon was loaded all ready for the chore,
In hopes that the hired man would be there before.
The cattle were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sweet cud danced in their heads.
Mamma in her Cartharts, and I in my old hat,
Had just settled in for a quick winter’s nap.
When out in the yard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I saw at a flash,
That the cows were gone and slid right on past.
The moon showed the tracks on the new-fallen snow,
And gave the illusion that they had left long ago.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a hay wagon, all loaded with beer!
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be that ol’ cowboy, St. Nick.
More rapid than deer, his team moved like a train,
As he smiled and called out to each one by name.
“Now Thunder! Now, Tumbler! Now, Bomber and Blitzen!
On, Blunder! On, Stumbler! On, Dancer and Vixen!
To the top of the hill! And stay off the porch!
Now trot on, trot away, off to the pen that holds you all day.
As the cold snow blew in, and a raging wind came,
When they met with an obstacle, they jumped over the wind vain.
They cleared the creek with as much as a nigh.
And with the wagon of beer, ran right on by.
And then, with a tug on the reins Nick came to a stop.
Stumbling and grumbling, he unloaded his pop.
And quietly moving so no one could hear,
He quickly leaned over to open a beer.
He was all dressed in leather, and his hat full of burrs.
His chinks were all tarnished with mud in his spurs.
A bundle of hay he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a cowboy who had quite a knack.
His eyes had a twinkle! And his face was quite hairy!
His cheek filled up with chew and his nose like a cherry!
His face was rough, but equally quite as merry.
And the beard of his chin, it did look a bit scary.
He was thin and hard, but was a pleasant old self,
And I laughed when I saw him, ‘cause of his good health!
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
He soon let us know that we had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And moved those ol’ cows with a whistle and a jerk.
Then after laying his finger aside of his nose,
He gave a nod and the cows were back in their holds!
He sprang to his wagon, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all ran down the road like milk thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove his team past,
“Happy Christmas to all, and I hope the beer lasts!”
Merry Christmas, Pete Crow