Santa's checkin' through his list
The elves are workin' overtime
Rudolph's shined his nose up bright
The sleigh is lookin' fine
Mrs. Santy's been acookin'
For ole' Santy and the boys
Cause Santy needs his nourishment
While spreadin' Christmas joys
Ole' Santy checks his schedule
And studies through his map
That Mrs. Santy plotted out
While Santy took his nap
The Mrs. stayed up half the night
Sortin' presents shoulder deep
Cause Christmas is acomin' soon
And ole' Santy needs his sleep
Christmas Eve, she's up 'fore dawn
It's sourdough biscuits for the boys
While Santy eats his breakfast
She's out loadin' all the toys
She helps to harness up the teams
And hitch 'em to the sleigh
While Santy drinks his coffee
She's out loadin' feed and hay
Then she helps him in his longjohns
After pressin' out his suit
Helps him fasten his suspenders
Spit shines both his boots
In a twinkle, Santy's on his way
Yuletide duties he'll not shirk
How come Santy gets the glory
When Mrs. Santy does the work
© 2001, Jay Snider
You can read more of Lariat Laureate Jay Snider's poetry here at the BAR-D. (This poem was a part of the 2001 Holiday collection.) He has a great cassette called Cowboyin', Horses & Friends:
Santa Claus' Sidekick
Now every cowboy hero had a sidekick that was true.
But did you know that Santa Claus well he had a special sidekick too.
Santa had the sniffles and his gout was acting up
He hated to admit it, but he was sicker than a pup.
But the kids from the world all round on Santa they did wait.
So he somehow had to hitch his sleigh and keep that special date.
Yep, Santa had a problem, along with the North Pole flu.
The elves were all too tired to work and the reindeer wouldn't do.
So he turned to his computer and the whole world he did scan
From the hills and plains of Texas to the sands of Pakistan.
Hmmmm, he scanned back there to Texas, where he saw a tiny light
It looked like someone's campfire. Could it be? Yep, he was right.
It was the campfire of ole Sour Dough, the cook from the Bar D spread.
Shoot he was so old and cranky that Santa feared that he was dead.
Sour Dough had helped him once before when he needed an extra hand.
He might pitch in and help him now and ride for Santa's brand.
Santa called him on his cell phone and then his nose he blew
"Yea?" answered Sour Dough and Santa answered "Sour, how are you?"
"Santa, good to hear you!! And what is on your mind?"
"I'm so sick." Wheezed ole Santa, "and I'm running far behind."
"I was wondering could you help me deliver all these toys.
If you could handle Texas and all those girls and boys."
Sour Dough rubbed his scraggly beard and scratched his balding head.
"Well certainly, Santa I'll help you out! I go and hitch up Fred!"
Fred was Sour's tiger stripped mule and cranky this mule was!
But Sour would line this mule out 'cause they must help ole Santa Claus.
With Fred hitched to the chuck wagon, they'd meet Santa on the way
And pick up all the toys that they must deliver on this day.
Fred kicked the single tree and balked a time or two.
He brayed and stomped and twitched his ears just like a mule would do.
Then they saw the red light as Rudolph led the way
And following was Santa and his toy-laden sleigh.
Sour popped his trusty whip and hollered out to Fred,
But Fred was planted in his tracks just like that he was dead.
Sour begged and pleaded at the contrary bay equine
Santa watched this odd dilemma and knew that Sour was wasting time.
Santa whistled very softly till Fred was hypnotized,
With Fred's attitude adjusted Sour surely was surprised!
Santa sneezed a time or two and sprinkled stardust all around
As Fred, Sour, and the chuckwagon slowly left the ground.
It was Sour Dough and Fred a flying through the sky
Delivering all the toys and leaving smiles you can't deny.
They flew the Texas skies from North to South and then from East to West.
Till the chuck wagon was empty and Sour needed a rest!
They landed at the bunkhouse in the heart of the Bar D Ranch
Where they heard the sounds of Christmas carols, could it be a Christmas
As Sour peeked in through the window, he saw much to his surprise
Old Santy kicking up his heels with a twinkle in his eyes!
Well Santa had recovered from the flu and was dancing all around!
The bunkhouse rocked with merriment and was filled with Christmas sound!
"Thank you Sour for all your help, in taking up the slack!
I have something special for you" and he reached into his sack!
A sack of stardust he took out and handed to Sour Dough.
"Just sprinkle it on that balky mule, then whistle soft and low."
"And Merry Christmas Sour Dough," said jolly old Saint Nick.
"And Merry Christmas back at you!" said Santa's number one sidekick.
You can read more of Lariat Laureate runner up Linda Kirkpatrick's poetry
here at the BAR-D. (This poem was a part of the 2001 Holiday collection.) She has an acclaimed book, Somewhere in the West:
Hey there! Santa-baby, with
The twinkle in your eyes!
You're comin' in from way up North!
You've got a "horse" that flies!
I know that any fella who's
As handsome as you are,
Would help this single lady if
She wishes on a star!
There's just a couple things I need
To make my life much better.
I'll leave a steak at hearth-side if
You'll please just read this letter!
First of all, the way I hear it,
You've got extra snow.
If you would dump some on my ranch
I bet my grass would grow!
Secondly, I hear you've got
Ranch hands with pointed ears.
If you would loan me one of them
I'd get my fence fixed here!
If I could borrow Rudolph when
You're through with him this Spring,
I wouldn't need a brandin' iron,
I'd use his "shiny" thing.
I'd have to change my brand, of course,
So it reads "Circle Spot" (0 .),
But all the calves should love it 'cause
It wouldn't be so hot!
I'd like to ask you, Santa, for
A pine tree that drops money.
But that would make this ranchin' game
Too easy for this honey!
In lieu of money, Santa dear,
Please dump, with magic wand,
Environmental-townies in a
Stinkin', stagnate pond!
If pond had alligators or
A real angry shark,
That would keep those suckers busy!
No time to plan a "park"!
Last of all, dear Santa, I know
You're a married guy.
Have you got a single brother?
Drop off as you go by?
If he's sweet and dear and lovin' ...
Got that twinkling eye! ...
I'd forget the nose and tummy!
Keep him 'til I die!
In closin', I must thank you for
Smiles that you bring,
To Season's celebrations for
Our Lord, His Son, our King!
...... a musing from the West by Rose Mary Allmendinger
You can read more of Rose Mary Allmendinger's poetry here at the BAR-D. (This poem was a part of the 2001 Holiday collection.)
Santy Claus Truly is Real
One Christmas Eve, Uncle Joe stopped in,
when the snow was about hip deep.
I was ready fer bed, when he volunteered
a story to put me t'sleep.
M'Maw said, "Well, if it ain't too long
an' ya don't git Bud too excited."
So Uncle Joe come in an' set down by my bed
an' I was plumb delighted.
He smiled and said, "I remember a time
when I thought ol' Santy's a joke.
That no old saint's gonna care what happens
to a scruffy ol' stinky cowpoke.
"Then, one Christmas Eve, a whole lot like this,
I was out on the trail alone.
It was snowin' steady, an' a cold north wind
had started t'howl an' t'moan.
"That's when a tree fell across the trail,
an' m'horse decided she'd go.
Which is what she did, an' pitched me off
in a pile of drifted snow.
"I was still a good couple of miles from home,
an' I tell ya, I'm gittin' worried.
I couldn't walk that far before I froze,
no matter how much I hurried.
"I was gittin' tired, an' sleepy, too
an' my feet had started tinglin'.
An' I swear t'goodness, it was right about then
that I heard some sleighbells jinglin'.
"I hollered, Hey, Santy Claus, are you real?
An' if you are, kin you hear?
I need some help if I'm gonna git home
t'see my Mother, dear.
"Then, whatta ya know, from across the snow
you'll never guess who I saw.
Yep, Santy Claus ridin' right up in 'is sleigh,
an' he brung me home to my Maw."
As Uncle Joe told of that ride in the sky
it seemed I was there that night.
We flew in and out, all around the stars,
an' I laughed an' hung on tight.
I couldn't tell ya how long we flew,
as we circled the Milky Way.
But next thing I knew, when I opened my eyes
it was early on Christmas Day.
M'head still held them jinglebells' sound,
as I yawned an' climbed outta bed.
An' I knew that Santy Claus truly is real,
jist like Uncle Joe had said.
© 2002, Hal Swift
You can read more of Hal Swift's poetry here at the BAR-D. Hal's book is called Cowboy Poems and Outright Lies:
One of Those Nights Before Christmas
It was one of those nights before Christmas
and things were kinda strange
At least that's the way it appeared to me
out here on the range
There was all kinds of a jinglin', janglin' noise
that was split by a cuss
Someone was havin' humongous problems
and raisin' quite a fuss
Mason slipped his boots over his longjohns
and said so much for his nap
I jumped out of my bunk, found my hat
and tried to button my flap
We headed towards the noise, in the flats,
at a reasonable speed
Not knowin' what kind of troubles we'd find
or the depth of their need
Low and behold what before these cowboys
eyes did appear
But a fat little man, dressed in red, and a sled
pulled by some deer
The sled, filled to overflowin' with toys,
was all tilted askew
And the little man in red was runnin' around
tryin' to figure out, what to do
"Dad-burn-it, dad-blast-it", from his lips
did fairly explode
"I've lost one of my runners, now I'll have
to lighten my load
I'm afraid there'll be a passel of children
sadly disappointed tonight
Unless I find a runner somewhere around here
and fix this sled right"
Mason looked at the little man in the red suit
with his stomach so round
And said "There's a lightin' rod at the house
from the barn we tore down"
"Maybe with a little luck, and bailin' wire,
we could tie it on tight
Then you could be back on your way and git
your job done tonight"
"Well off with you Mason, and be quick,"
he said with a smile
"I have much to do before the end of the night
and have to travel a many a mile"
Seems that I only turned around maybe once
and Mason was there by my side
With a lightin' rod and a big gob of bailin' wire,
to fix the old man's ride
The little old man grinned, took a pull on his pipe,
then really got busy
Arms and legs flying ever which a way, it would
fairly make you dizzy
He hog tied that lightin' rod to the sled, with a
half hitch or four
Then backed off, took a quick look, then gave it
With a whistle he gathered up those deer and
hitched them to the sled
Shook our hands, then jumped on the seat and
screwed his hat on his head
We heard him cry out to us, as the deer, sled, and
him took flight
"Thanks to you boys, there will be Christmas in
© 2002, Jim Owen
You can read more of Jim Owen's poetry here at the BAR-D.
When Santa Met Saddle Tramp Lee
IT was a night near Christmas, and I was all alone on the trail.
THE snow was shor' a fallin', and the wind it did wail.
COULDN'T find no shelter, as it got close to night,
CLOUDS filled the skies, nary a star was in sight.
I threw down my bedroll, on the prairie of snow.
RIGHT here will we camp, no more will we go.
I fed and I tended, the critters in my string,
THEN whistled and sang, as I made a fire ring.
I sang to my critters, as I put them to bed.
I pulled out all the Christmas songs, I could find in my head.
THE wind settled down, and the moon showed it's face.
THE meadow lit up, just like fine linen lace.
IT weren't but a few, before I had me a fire,
THEN my thoughts turned away, to a want and desire.
I dreamed of a cabin, way up in the mountains.
WHERE tall pines are the skylines, and the springs are like fountains.
AS I sat there a starin' into the fire burnin' bright,
FOR a moment I was at peace, and all was all right.
I gazed up to the skies lit with millions of stars.
MY mind settled near, and imagined the fars.
A light caught my eye, as it dashed up and down.
I was sure at one point, it had fell to the ground.
THE light kept it up for a while I'd say,
THEN it turned and headed back my way.
AS it passed by the moon shinin' bright and full,
I saw that it was Santa, with reindeer on the pull.
"IT is Santa, I'm sure", I said to myself.
"COULD I maybe get a visit from that jolly old elf?"
HE landed the sleigh on the meadow of snow.
THEN I knew it was him, cause I heard a "HO, HO".
"HOW ya doin' partner?", he said with a chuckle.
HIS belly shook hard, and it covered his buckle.
I invited the old boy into my camp by the fire.
ON the way I told him of my want and desire.
"WELL", he said, "have you been a good lad?"
I told him I'd been good, but maybe a little bad.
YOU can't lie to Santa, I thought to myself,
CAUSE nothin' gets by that little fat elf.
OVER by the fire he said why he'd stopped by.
CAUSE he'd saw my lone camp from up in the sky.
HE hadn't been able to find me, cause I move to much.
HE asked, "Where ya been, you ain't stayed in touch".
I had no excuse, so I bowed my head in shame.
ANY reason I could give would for sure sound lame.
I didn't see no smoke from the pipe in his teeth.
THEY say when you do it looks like a wreath..
I offered my friend a plug from my pouch.
THEN next to the fire appeared a fine couch.
HE said, "Sit down here boy, and tell me your woe".
SO we sat and we talked, and drank a cup of joe.
THEN he said, " My dear boy, it's time for me to part,
GOTTA lot to do, and I got me a late start."
DON'T forget to write, and be a good lad."
I knew that I'd better, and not make him mad.
I hollered, "I will!", as he drove out of sight.
AGAIN I was at peace, and all was all right.
THE couch disappeared, in it's place was a box.
I figured inside was some underwear or sox.
WHEN I opened the lid a light hit my face.
WHEN I could see again, I was in a different place.
ALL around me were mountains, covered in pine..
I thought I was crazy, and lost my fool mind.
BUT I wasn't at all crazy, as I soon found out.
IT was my present from Santa, there ain't no doubt.
THERE was a warm cabin, with a fine feather bed.
THE critters had a pasture, and a grand loafing shed.
YOU can believe me when I say that this story is true,
I believe in Santa, and I write to him too.
ALL my wants and desires did come to be,
ON the night that Santa met me, "Saddle Tramp Lee. "
©2002, "Saddle Tramp" Lee Young
You can read more about "Saddle Tramp" Lee Young at his web site.
Christmas on the Porch
Twas the night before Christmas & out on the porch,
The cider pan on the stove was starting to scorch.
The rum we were drinking was taking affect,
So we were all nodding as you might expect.
The rum bottles were all lined up in a row,
In hopes that more cider was soon to show.
All of a sudden we heard such a clatter,
It seems that damn Ol Mell had fallen off the ladder.
What he was doing there we didn't know,
But when we looked out the window he was laying in the snow.
We drug him inside & when he came to,
We all asked him what he was trying to do.
He said he had climbed halfway to the roof,
cause he thought he had seen a reindeers hoof.
We all ran outside with lantern in hand,
Hoping to see if that reindeer would land.
We must have missed it because all we could see,
Was a streak in the sky & we couldn't make out what it might be.
When we went back in the porch imagine our surprise,
There were presents all over we couldn't believe our eyes.
We were all aghast at what had transpired,
Even the stove had been recently fired.
We looked out the window to see a bright light,
So bright that it lit up the night.
That streak in the sky had made a turn to the right,
And was just about out of sight.
Then we heard a load voice in the night,
Merry Christmas to all & to all a good night.
Ol Mel will swear to you to this day,
That he had touched the runners on that sleigh.
Now Ol Mel ain't one you need to cottle,
But now & then he just can't turn loose of that bottle.
© 2002, Keith L Adams
You can read more of Keith L. Adams' poetry here at the BAR-D.
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