Posted in Poetry

Night Before Christmas, Texas Style

‘T’were the night a’fore Christmas, when throughout the ranch,
Not an oak tree was stirring, not even a branch;
Our workboots were set by the fireplace with care,
In hopes that Ole Santy Claus soon would appear;
The kiddos were bunked-in all snug in their beds,
While pictures of candy-canes two-stepped in their heads;
This momma was half-asleep with a youngun’ on her lap,
Watching Weatherscan and thinking 65 degrees was a cold-snap,

When out from the driveway there came such a noise,
I put the baby down and jumped up outta my lazy-boy.
Away to the winda I ran in a hurry,
Jerked open the miniblinds to see what was the worry.

The moon on the tops of the dried-leaves below
Let me know this was Texas and there wouldn’t be snow,
When, what to my dumb-fuzzled eyes should appear,
But a red Chevy truck, and eight Longhorns diguised as reindeer,

With a little ole driver, so rowdy and quick,
I knew in a second it was surely St. Nick.
More rapid than the Eagles–his reindeer they came,
And he hooped, and he hollared, and shouted their names:

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now flash away! Flash away! Flash away all!”

As quickly as a cheapskate on Black Friday drives,
And runs to door-busters – soon as she arrives,
So up to the roof-top the Longhorns they flew,
With the truckbed full of toys, and Ole Santy Claus too.

And then, in a twinklin’, I heard on the roof
The dancin’ and prancin’ of each little hoof.
As I pulled in my hand, and was spinnin’ around,
Down the chimney Ole Santy Claus came with a bound.

He was dressed all in denim, from his head to his foot,
And his boots were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bushel of toys he had in a Wal-Mart sack,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were all rosy like a plump Sonic cherry!
His sweet little mouth was drawn up in a grin,
And he had a goatee surrounding his chin;
The end of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And a sign that said “No Smoking” caused him quite some grief;
He had broad shoulders and an unsightly beer-belly,
That shook when he laughed like a jar full of jelly.

He was tall and quite stocky, a peculiar sized elf,
And I smirked when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a grin ear-to-ear,
Soon allowed me to know I had nothin’ to fear;

He was too quiet for my likin’, but went straight to his work,
He filled our Justin workboots; then turned with a smirk,
And brushing the soot off the front of his clothes,
With a tip of his Stetson, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his Chevy, to his boys hollared git-up,
And away they all flew in his red Chevy truck.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

“Night Before Christmas, Texas Style”
Melissa Fairchild (c) 2007 (revised 2018)
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