Cow Country Christmas Memory
The cattle and horses got fed first,
That was a tradition at our place.
Christmas in Cow Country,
Without that hectic urban pace.
Each of our ponies got an apple,
with their morning feed of oats,
As we hurried through our morning chores,
in felt pack boots and overcoats.
Mom served homemade eggnog
Dad passed the presents out,
He did it slow to torment us,
Of that I have no doubt.
From the Christmas of my childhood,
many memories linger on,
Like snowy mittens, fresh sliced apples.
Feeding cattle before dawn.
Pop always insisted that presents wait,
Until the stock had all been fed,
He was sure surprised when we had it done,
before he got out of bed!
© 2003, Mike Puhallo
Read more of Mike Puhallo's poetry here.
Virginia, I Believe
Yes, Virginia, I believe there is a Santa Claus;
but I don't think he is a man...the reason is because
all the men I've ever met have never liked to shop;
and would never watch commercials to find out what is hot.
He'd have the lists of children's wants all over the darned house,
jotted down on envelopes, then be angry with his spouse
for moving them or losing them, and he could never find
half of all the presents...and they'd get left behind.
He'd have to ask directions so he'd not lose his way,
or have the Missus go along to back-seat drive his sleigh.
(Why, even Lewis & Clark, who we honor yet today,
had to get a woman to guide them on their way.)
And did you ever meet a man who'd wear a suit of red
trimmed in fur all fluffy, with that hat upon his head?
Virginia, please don't take me wrong, he's been real good to me;
but I'm convinced he's not a man...that Santa is a she!
© 2003 Yvonne Hollenbeck
Read more of Honored Guest Yvonne Hollenbeck's poetry here.
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
Read more of Jay Snider's poetry here.
As we near the Christmas season
Every year I have a reason
To complain about my lot in life because
I'm unhappy as can be
No one ever thinks of me
It's not easy being Mrs. Santa Claus
Who is always doing chores?
Who does sewing and restores
That old tacky crimson suit with worn-out furs?
For a century, each year
I've been letting out the rear
To accommodate the bulge that now occurs
When my absent-minded spouse
Lets the reindeer in the house
Through that broken door the elves forgot to fix
Muddy hooves -- there's quite a few
If you're counting -- thirty two
Unless Rudolph shows and then there's thirty-six
And speaking of those elves
They do not behave themselves
All their noise while making toys compounds my woes
I am always mending frocks
And forever darning sox
That they puncture with those awful pointy toes
Since the nearest grocery store
Is a thousand miles or more
All I ever get to eat is frozen dinner
Although Santa thinks it's fine
When he sneaks a glass of wine
That's why he gets fat while I keep getting thinner
Santa Claus is too darn jolly
And I think he's off his trolley
When his cheerfulness becomes a bit extreme
I attempt a conversation
But it ends with my frustration
If I hear another "Ho-Ho-Ho" -- I'll scream
"Santa: On this Christmas Eve
I'll mount up with you and leave
Because Anna Claus deserves some holidays
Tell those elves that you released her
And she won't be back 'til Easter
Even later if they don't amend their ways
You get all the World's applause
Rightly so . . . you're Santa Claus
Every child appreciates the good you do
Good is good -- while I agree
Save a little good for me
And you'd better if you know what's good for you!
© 2001, Omar West
Read more poetry by Omar West -- who got the BAR-D goin' in January 1, 2000 -- here.
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