'Twas just before Santy came,
                           the story is told.
                           Cattle weren't stirrin', fact they's
                           bunched against the cold.
                           The tack was hung near the
                           chuckwagon with care.
                           Why, we didn't know Santy was
                           close anywhere.
                           Cowboys on the ground were
                           wishin' for their beds
                           While nightmares of wild steers
                           ran through their heads.
                           'Tween now and the next gather,
                           we needed a nap.
                           Cookie had just finished, and
                           tied down the flap.
                           When out past the cavvy, there
                           rose such a fuss,
                           I sprang to my feet, leavin'
                           the bedroll a muss,
                           And grabbin' my shotgun and my
                           ragged ol' hat
                           I run t'ward the racket thinkin'
                           "...what'n thunder's that?"
                           When thoughts of amazement
                           through my head courses,
                           It was a buckboard teamed up
                           with draft horses,
                           A driver in red buckskins, so
                           spry and dainty,
                           I know'd in an instant, it
                           must be ol' Santy.
                           Quicker than jackrabbits, them
                           horses they came,
                           And, he's shoutin' commands to
                           each one by name...
                           "Get a step, Joe!. One more, Prince!.
                           On, Big Ed!
                           Pick it up, Sam!  Tighten up, Lou!
                           On, Old Ned!
                           Don't spook the cavvy, back away
                           from them pens,
                           You're a pullin' this wagon like a
                           bunch of ol' hens!
                           Now, when I haul on these lines
                           I mean to stop.
                           Hold up in this cow-camp like a
                           ton of cow flop!"
                           They sat down in their riggin',
                           like I knew they would,
                           With a wagon of goodies ... made
                           of leather and wood.
                           Then, in a twinklin' with no
                           further delay,
                           He said, "Back it up, boys, this
                           here ain't no sleigh" .
                           I couldn't believe my ears,
                           and lookin' around,
                           Off that wagon ol' Santy came
                           with a bound.
                           He was short, and his chinks
                           reached near to his toes.
                           He was happy and fat, with
                           a little red nose.
                           There was a ton of packages
                           and some new tack,
                           And, ol' Santy was carryin' it
                           all on his back.
                           His eyes sort of bloodshot,
                           much like a cherry,
                           From 'rastlin' them horses
                           clean across the prairie.
                           His lips was plumb puckered,
                           his mouth drawn and droll,
                           (Mine got that way, the day I
                           swallered my Skoal.)
                           He was holdin' a piggin' string
                           tight in his teeth,
                           Not fer' tie down, but for tyin'
                           'up' a fine wreath.
                           His head was too big and he
                           had a round belly,
                           No doubt derived from eatin'
                           Texas Chili.
                           He's chubby and plump all right,
                           I'd say quite jolly.
                           I laughed plumb out loud when
                           I seen him, by golly.
                           He winked his bloodshot eye,
                           and spat 'tween his lips,
                           And, it made me to know we
                           were all in the chips.
                           He weren't much for chatter,
                           just done what was due,
                           Givin' presents and goodies
                           to the whole durn crew.
                           Then, he stuck his finger in
                           his wee little ear,
                           Wallered it around and said,
                           "We're through bein' here".
                           He fled to the wagon, and his
                           team called 'em up,
                           "Come on you swaybacks ... what's
                           the dad-burn holdup?
                           We won't be back till next year
                           'cause we're flat broke.
                           Merry Christmas, my eye,
                           I just busted a spoke!"* 

6/98 All Rights Reserved *
                           David Kelley