Twas The Night Before Christmas, Y’all

cowboy boots ‘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 Texas, need more 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, comin’ on at a run,
The driver was “Geein” and “Hawin”, at will,
The horses (not reindeer) he drove with such skill.

“Come on there Buck, Poncho, Prince, Lucky and Dwight,
There’ll be plenty of travelin’ for y’all tonight.”
The driver in Levi’s and a shirt that was red,
Had a ten-gallon Stetson on top of his head.

As he stepped from the buckboard, he was really a sight,
With his beard and moustache, so curly and white.
As he burst in the cabin, the children awoke,
And were so astonished, that neither one spoke.

And 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 really Santa Claus?”

“Am I the real Santa? Well, what do you think?”
And he smiled as he gave a mysterious wink.
Then he leaped in his buckboard, and called back in his drawl,
“To all the children in Texas, Merry Christmas, Y’all”

christmas bow


Merry Christmas, y’all!  I hope that however you celebrate and with whomever — it’s filled with love and magic and laughter and surprises and joy and peace and beauty and fun.



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  1. Every time I see your mantle I think of monkeys head cracking on it. And then I get the heebie jeebies in my butt cheeks.

    All that is to say MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS, Y’ALL. We love you!

  2. Love the poem! So very creative. Merry Christmas to you and your family and may only good things come your way in the New Year!

  3. Rachel,

    I don’t comment nearly as often as I read and take in the pictures that I can almost smell. But to me, cooking is 3 minutes, a microwave, and a can of spaghettios. You encourage me to try, and I’ve had varying degrees of success. But cooking – not my thing. But your fire, your heart, your spirit come ringing through with everything you write. So I read anyway because people with such heart are contagious. Your heart is contagious. God Bless and Keep you and yours.

  4. Rachel

    We are compiling an anthology of Texas Christmas tales and could have room for a poem. Would you like to contribute?

Talk to me!

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