'Twas the night before Christmas
In Texas, you know,
Way out on the Prairie,
Without any snow.
Asleep in their cabin
Were Buddy and Sue
A dreamin' of Christmas
Like me and like you.
Not stockings, but boots
At the foot of their bed,
For this was in Texas,
What more can be said.
When all of a sudden
From out the still night,
There came such a ruckus
It gave me a fright.
And I saw 'cross the Prairie
Like a shot from a gun,
A loaded up buckboard
Come out at a run.
The driver was geein'
And hawin' with will,
And horses, not reindeer,
He drove with such skill.
C'mon Buck and Poncho,
And Prince to the right,
There'll be plenty o travelin'
For ya'll tonight.
The driver in Levi's
And a shirt that was red,
Had a 10-gallon Stetson
On top of his head.
As he stepped from his buckboard
He was really a sight,
A beard and a moustache
So curly and white.
As he burst in the cabin,
The children awoke,
And were both so astonished,
That neither one spoke.
He filled up their boots
With such presents galore
That neither could think
Of a single thing more.
When Buddy recovered
The use of his jaws
He asked in a whisper,
"Are you Santa Claus?"
"Am I the real Santa?
Well, what do you think?"
And he smiled as he gave
A mysterious wink.
Then he lept in the buckboard
And said in his drawl,
'To the children of Texas,
Merry Christmas, ya'll.
In Texas, you know,
Way out on the Prairie,
Without any snow.
Asleep in their cabin
Were Buddy and Sue
A dreamin' of Christmas
Like me and like you.
Not stockings, but boots
At the foot of their bed,
For this was in Texas,
What more can be said.
When all of a sudden
From out the still night,
There came such a ruckus
It gave me a fright.
And I saw 'cross the Prairie
Like a shot from a gun,
A loaded up buckboard
Come out at a run.
The driver was geein'
And hawin' with will,
And horses, not reindeer,
He drove with such skill.
C'mon Buck and Poncho,
And Prince to the right,
There'll be plenty o travelin'
For ya'll tonight.
The driver in Levi's
And a shirt that was red,
Had a 10-gallon Stetson
On top of his head.
As he stepped from his buckboard
He was really a sight,
A beard and a moustache
So curly and white.
As he burst in the cabin,
The children awoke,
And were both so astonished,
That neither one spoke.
He filled up their boots
With such presents galore
That neither could think
Of a single thing more.
When Buddy recovered
The use of his jaws
He asked in a whisper,
"Are you Santa Claus?"
"Am I the real Santa?
Well, what do you think?"
And he smiled as he gave
A mysterious wink.
Then he lept in the buckboard
And said in his drawl,
'To the children of Texas,
Merry Christmas, ya'll.
**poem courtesy of GranGran's website**
7 comments:
Tex, until the end I could believe that was you writing that!
You Texans are so independent, the Santa for everyone else isn't good enough: you've gotta have your own. ;)
dooooohhhhhhhhh remember we WERE our own Country Ted....we'll Always have our own everything :)
You've got to love any poem that has a man from that far north saying "y'all".
Merry Christmas, Tex!
You mean you still aren't your own country?
shhhhhhhhhhhhh Ted...we're keeping it under wraps till later...and we'll take control
I should have known...
after we are the ONLY state who became their own country. Texans are Bigger than Life itself.
but you already knew that huh?
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