The Night Before Christmas
at M' Home on the Range
Twere nigh onto Christmas,
an'all'round m' cabin
Ya c'd hear cactus grow---
warn't a coyote gabbin'.
M' long-johns was propped
on a stick by the fire
in the hopes come mornin',
they'd be warmer an' drier.
The heifers were dreamin',
outside on m' lands,
Nightmares 'bout me milkin'
with cold mornin' hands.
M' horse slept indoors, an'
the cabin smelled rank. It
were so cold outside, me an'
him shared the blanket.
When above, on the shakes, I
heard hoof-beats skedaddle.
I unholstered m' guns--
somethin's scarin' the cattle!--
Threw open the door, stood
out on the porch
Barefoot, buck-naked--jes'
m' gun an' a torch.
The moonbeams that marched
'crost m' spread single-
file
Showed only snow was unbroken
fer mile after mile.
"Some ruckus" I shrugged.
"Jes' the wind in the sage"-
When 'crost the night sky
comes the overland stage!
Overhead the stage twirled
like a big wagon wheel,
An' I reckon I felt like a
buzzards next meal.
My eyeballs improvin' as
each swoop it nears,
I c'd see the stage pulled by
some strange lookn' steers!
They ambushed m' ranch
like a hound'll rout grouse-
Tore a wall off the barn an'
knocked down the outhouse!
Like a tumbleweed skitters
which way the wind blows,
Them varmints was loco
An' then, from above me, I
hear m' roof groan,
An' I figger m' ceilin'
would drop like a stone.
I yelled m'self raw, over
jangles and jingles:
"Git that stage off m' roof!
Git them steers off m' shingles"
When from somewheres
behind me, I hears some galoot
Crack out "Pipe Down, Son!"
As the room filled with soot!
He'd climbed down m' chimmney
this greenhorn so rude,
An' one look at his rig said
it all. "He's a Dude!"
His face was all whiskers-
In a bag was his gear-
His red suit must mean he
was huntin' fer deer.
He looked so dang silly, I
guffawed through an' through,
But I stopped when he said,
"Son yer skin's turnin' blue"
I'll admit it loked strange-
didn't take much more proof
Than standin' buck-naked,
eight steers on m' roof.
'Scuse m' bad manners, sir,
an' I doffed m' sombrero.
I asks, where ya from gramps?
an' the dude says "Up North"
"I'll be drivin' all night" he
said "last light t' first"
"It's hard on ol' codgers-
but on reindeers it's worst.
'So I'm askin' a favor, an' I
hopes you agrees:
"Lemme borry eight long-horns
t'night, if ya please."
"Ya got grit, dude," I says as I
my six guns I cock,
Bustin' up m' home spread,
an' now rustlin' m' stock."
"That's all been repaired,"
said he, scratchin' his nose.
with a last "Much Obliged"
up m' chimmney he goes.
I wer seen' dang good then
as I recollects:
That greenhorn done gimme
a new pair o'specs!
I looks out, an' sees a new
barn in the fog;
In m' new privy sits a fresh
sears catalog!
But I was still uneasy-
them loghorns was prime
An' fer reindeers I couldn't
git nary a dime.
"I'll be back afore dawn,"
says he, slappin' the traces,
an' next thing I knowed, they
whoosed over the mesas!
But I heard him shout out, as
his stage claered the moon:
"Happy Trails t' ya cowboy,
'til we meet again soon!
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE!!
Home on The Range
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