FogHorn December 21, 2017  -  Cowboy Christmas at the Odd Fellows

T'was the Night Before Round-up!

by The Cactus kid

 

It's the night before Round-up and all over the Ranch

Not one thing is stirring, not even a branch.

The lariats were slung over saddles and tied,

And branding irons cleaned and stacked on their side.

 

The Cowboys all sleeping snug in their beds,

While visions of bar girls danced in their heads.

I took off my spurs, time for bed I believe,

Cause Tomorrow is Christmas and this be its Eve.

 

When out on the range there ca e such a ruckus,

I jumped out of bed to see what disturbed us.

I ran to the window, threw it open real quick,

With a whoopin' and hollerin' there came St. nick.

 

"Wells Fargo" it said on the side of the Stage,

Driven by SAnta, that man of old age.

Hoofs stompin' and snortin', down the prairie they came,

He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

 

"Now Thunder, no Queenie, now Blackie and Paint,

On Toby, on Smoky, on Silver and Saint.

'Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up ya dang Fools,

They got cattle to round up and branding of bulls."

 

Eight horses and Stage Coach stopped in the yard,

He took a swig from his jug and slapped ole Paint hard.

He reached back behind him, grabbed his bag with a jerk,

Then jumped to the ground and set right to work.

 

Stirring up dust like a Civil War Battle,

Fast as a wink he'd branded the cattle.

I laughed and I cried and I silently wept,

he had done our day's work while the hands still slept.

 

With a wink and a smile, up on the stage coach he sat,

Turned from the wind for a tobacco stained spat.

Shouting and waving as he rode out of sight,

Merry Christmas to all and to all good night!