The Night Before... Texas Style

[AggieMike88]

'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 you.

Not stockings, but boots, at the foot of their bed,
For this was Texas, what more need be said,
When all of a sudden, from out of 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 on at a run,
The driver was "Geein" and "Hawin", with a will,
The horses (not reindeer) he drove with such skill.

"Come on there Buck, Poncho, & Prince, to the right,
There'll be plenty of travelin' for you 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, You-all"

 

[AggieMike88]

'Twas The Night Before Xmas- Redneck

'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin Was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw."
Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.
This was just like all of the stories he'd heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.
"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"

"Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin' At all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!

 

[Richard]

Re: The Night Before... Freight Dog Style

Twas the night before Christmas,
and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring,
not even a Champ.

The aircraft were fastened
to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning,
they all would be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled,
all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty
at 39 knots.

I slumped at the fuel desk,
now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably,
resting my butt.

When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.

He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.

He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!

With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:"
Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!On Comet! On Cupid!"
What pills was he takin'?

While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their heads.
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower.

"He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.

And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"

And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion".

He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed through the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight!"

 

[silver-eagle]

Re: The Night Before... Pirate Style

Aye,

T'was the night `fer Christmas, when all through me boat-
We all be real happy jest being afloat.
Me stockings were hung by me chimney with care,
In hopes that Ol' Graybeard soon would be there.
Me crew be nestled all snug in thar berth,
While visions of riches and to reap all it's worth!
And me wench in her `kerchief, and me in me cap,
Be droppin' the hook fer a long winter's nap.
When out on me starb'rd there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from me berth to see what be the matter...
Away to me chest where me weapons be stored,
Reach fer me pistol and strapped on me sword.
The moon on the beach and the waters surround,
Me ears be a'peaked, but alas, thar's no sound.
When, what to me wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature galleon, and eight buccaneers!
From up in ye moonlight thar vessel had dived,
I knew in a moment Ol' Graybeard arrived!
More rapid than cannons his Pirates they came,
He be whistlin, and shoutin, and callin by name.
"Ahoy Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of ye deck! To the top of ye gunwale!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As sails that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they rip and they tear, mount up to the sky.
So up to the mast-top the Pirates they flew,
With ye chest full of loot, hoistin' a sword or two.
And then, me Matie, me hears an' realize-
The peg leg stomp of Graybeards vast size.
As I drew in me head, and readied me sword...
Into the cabin! Ol' Graybeard's aboard!
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
And his beard was a-blazin' in ashes and soot.
A bundle of treasures he flung on his back,
An' he looked like a peddler, jest opening his sack.
His eye-how it twinkled! His breath smell of Rum!
He points with a finger, "Ya Dog, now ye come!"
Me steps a bit closer to see what he say,
"AAAARRRGG!! Swabby, ya be in me way!!"
The stump of a pipe he held in teeth a'yellow
And the smoke encircled this murderous fellow;
He wear an eye patch and leered with his other,
An he coughed once er twice an swore at his Mother.
He was chubby and plump, this wicked ol man,
I cowered when I saw him, an said,"I be damned..."
A wink of his good eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know thar's nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all me stockings; then turned with a jerk,
and layin his finger aside of his nose,
and givin a nod, out the deckhatch he rose;
He sprang to his galleon, to his crew gave a holler,
An out of his pocket fell a gold Spanish dollar.
But me heard him shout, `ere he sailed out of sight,
"Happy Christmas, Ya Swabbies, and to all a Goodnight!"