Cowboy Poetry and Music and More at the BAR-D Ranch

About Dave Fiebert



'Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the stable,
Not a creature was stirring
Not even my cow Mable.

The stockings were hung on the railing
With goat hair,
In hopes that Cowboy Nick
Would don his red underwear.

The pigs were all nestled
All stuck to their beds,
While visions of mud-pies
Danced in their heads.

My dog Pepper in his ‘kerchief
And I in my chaps,
Soon finished checkers
And were ready for naps.

When out in the corral
There arose such a ruckus,
Pepper and I
Had to get off our tuckus.

Away to the window
I flew like an eagle,
Tore through the cobwebs
And howled like a beagle.

The moon on the cactus
All sparkled with snow,
Gave a luster of “High Noon”
To the tool shed below.

When what to my bloodshot
Eyes should show,
But a mini two seat buck wagon
With eight tiny buffalo.

And a little old driver
So lively and quick.
Pepper knew in a moment
It must be Cowboy Nick.

More fuzzy than bears
His flying herd was so proud,
He whistled and hee-hawed
And called them out loud.

“Now Hacksaw, now Cooter,
Now Winkie, and Luke,
On Axle, on Welby,
On Fishbein, and Duke!

To the top of the cupola
To the top of the joist,
Now mush away, mush away
Mush and hoist!”

As dry buffalo chips
That before a windstorm fly,
When they meet with a hay shovel
Stink up the sky.

So, up to the hayloft
The bison they flew,
With a baleful of corn feed,
Fritters, and Cowboy Nick, too.

And then in a twinkling
Pepper heard up above,
Eight breathing bison
Taking off thirty-two tiny gloves.

As I grabbed my tobaccee
And was taking my first chew,
Down the hay hoist
Cowboy Nick slid yelling, “Yaa-hoo!”

He was dressed in red buckskin
From his hat to his boot,
And his wranglers were all smothered
In cow dung and soot.

A load of cornhusks
He had flung on his back,
And he looked like a railroad tramp
Just opening his pack.

His eyes -how they twinkled.
His ears -they were wrinkled.
His cheeks -all red from sunning’.
His nose -well, that was a-runnin’.

His chipper little mouth
Was drawn up kinda silly,
And the beard on his chin
Reminded me of Willy.

Some beef jerky he held
Tight in his teeth.
It’s fragrance encircled
His head like a wreath.

He had a strange stench
Like sun baked sows,
But he could laugh longer and louder
Than all my old cows.

He was snowy and grubby
With a panhandler stance,
Yet, Pepper and I danced and hollered
At our first glance.

A spark from his spurs,
A red bandana about his neck,
Told Pepper and me
He’d had a long trek.
He spoke not a word
But went straight to the lambs,
To fill their feed troughs
With oats, barley, and bran.

While all the rest
Got their wishes,
-Grains, fresh hay, and salt blocks,
All grand Christmas dishes.
Then laying his beef jerky
To the side of his nose,
He gave a nod
And up the stovepipe he rose.

He waltzed to his buggy
With buffalo to go,
Then away they all stampeded
Before I could say “Geronimo.”

But I heard him holler
Through the Northerly blizzard,
“Have a Cowboy Christmas
And don’t eat no gizzard!”

‘Twas a boastin’ tale
We have told, that’s true.
Now may the blessings of the season
Be beholdin’ to you.

© 2011, Dave Fiebert
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's permission.

This poem is a part of Christmas at the BAR-D, 2011


  About Dave Fiebert
provided 2011

Dave Fiebert lives just outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with his wife Mary Ann and 2 grown children, David and Lauren. He makes his living as a puppeteer ( where he even features a puppet show made for the young ones titled COWBOY CAPERS, and enjoys being an actor as well.





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