‘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:
“Now, CRASHER! now, STOMPER! LINE-DANCER! and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, BLUNDER and BLITZEN!
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,
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, Y’ALL, AND TO Y’ALL A GOOD-NIGHT.”
“Night Before Christmas, Texas Style”
Melissa Fairchild (c) 2007 (revised 2018)
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