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Happy holidays folks!

 

Classic Cowboy Poetry

Happy Days

The bells in town are ringing,
   'Tis Christmas time, we know;
But not a sound of the bells we hear
   Out across the shifting snow.
Across the wind-swept prairie,
   Where the wild chinook winds blow.

'Tis Christmas night, and we're far away
   From all we love and know,
But faces are bright, and hearts are light;
   Outside is the drifting snow.
And we talk, and laugh, and sing with joy,
   Out where the chinooks blow.

It's Christmas night, and they drink a toast
   To the loved one, far away;
One to the boys from the sunny South,
   And one for the old range ways;
But the one we all love best of all
   When they call out "Happy Days."

'Tis Christmas night on the old wild range,
   And the Northern Lights aglow,
Dance o'er the grim grey cut-banks,
   And down on the drifting snow.
And the coyote sneaks by the frozen creeks,
   And the wolf calls long and low,
But the toast on the range is "Happy Days,"
   Far out where the riders go.

by Rhoda Sivell

 

You can read more of Canadian Rhoda Sivell's poetry here at the BAR-D.

She is:

Featured in "The Big Roundup," an anthology of the best of CowboyPoetry.com.

 

Happy holidays folks!

 

All American Christmas

An all-American Christmas is hard to have today
  with all the foreign imports that are packed in Santa's sleigh.
The toys all come from China, most clothes are from there too;
  it makes me wonder if his elves have anything to do.

The trees all come from Canada, the trimmin's  from Taiwan;
   as I read tags where things are from, I'm  thinkin' something's wrong!
The coat I bought for hubby was made in Bangladesh;
   his Wranglers from Korea...from the Japanese, his vest.

And what was worse, I went to buy the food for Christmas Day;
  the turkeys that I sorted through had come from Uraguay.
The hams, they came from Mexico, the coffee from Brazil;
  that's where all the nuts came from ..except for Uncle Bill!

There's fruitcake made in Germany, the rum is from there too;
   (perhaps that is the reason why poor Grandpa got the flu)
The lutefisk came from Norway, it smelled like something dead;
     the English and the Irish were the ones who made the bread.

Then I got to thinkin' that we'd just go out to eat,
    but all the fast-food joints serve the foreign kind of meat.
There's Mexican, Italian, and cafes that are Chinese;
    and even goat meat featured in those restaurants from Greece.

Everything's from somewhere else, I'll tell you folks, it's sad
   that an All-American Christmas is so hard to be had.
But from these foreign imports, if you'd like to find relief,
   just go down to your grocery store and buy American Beef!

November 21, 2002, Yvonne Hollenbeck

This poem will appear in the South Dakota Stockgrowers magazine.

You can read more of Yvonne Hollenbeck's poetry here at the BAR-D.  Her poetry is included in anthologies and she is the author of two books, including the new Where Prairie Flowers Bloom:

 

Happy holidays folks!

 

God Rest Ye Merry Cattlemen

God rest ye merry cattlemen,
let nothing you dismay.
Remember good ole Santy Claus
will bring to us some hay;
to save us from this lousy drought
when our luck's gone astray.
O, tidings of lots and calves and hay.
Lots of calves and hay.
O, tidings of lots and calves and hay.

From Santy came a letter
to all the ranchers here
and even to the sheepmen
to say, "Be of good cheer!"
For with sleighs pulled by the reindeer
will come lots of supplies this way.
O, tidings of lots of calves and hay.
And lambs and hay.
O, tidings of lots of calves and hay.

2002, Jean Mathisen

You can read more of Lariat Laureate runner up Jean Mathisen's poetry here at the BAR-D.  Jean is the author of six books of poetry. 

She is:

Featured in "The Big Roundup," an anthology of the best of CowboyPoetry.com.

 

Happy holidays folks!

 

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