Ron Gale

Cowboy Christmas Ron Gale

Christmas poems Cowboy style. An old-line shack, away out back, I dream of Christmas chuck. Out where there're gals and Christmas bells, But snowbound here, I'm stuck. The North winds cry while drifts grow high. The flame is blazing higher. I realize there're no supplies, As I stoke the blazing fire. The cattle bawl, as cold winds crawl. But snow keeps fallin' down. With the cows fed, I'll make my bed, No way I'll get to town. With snow as high as a horses eye, And drifts top twenty feet. The guy would tramp from here to camp, Is one I'd like to meet?Of apple pie, I'll dream, and cry, Of the grits, and hot roast turkey. But cows I'll feed, and tend their need; Eatin' beans and old cold jerky. CHRISTMAS AT THE RANCHA Christmas Day out at the ranch. Where every day I take a chance. When just a kid past being nursed. We always fed the livestock first. When we'd start to feed the cattle, It was no real kind of battle. My dad just said, "Some extra hay, Because this is a special day. And these ol' doggies need it good. But then I never understood. Why we should give them extra feed, As they were getting what they need. We always fed them just so much, And any more they would not touch. Now in our early morning hasteThe extra feed would be a waste. A CHRISTMAS I REMEMBERThere's a Christmas I remember, just a cold, frosty December. The wind was blowing wild. It was way back in forty-one, As the great war had just begun. When I was but a child, And then the war and rationing, that, to me, a separate thing. For me, it was so mild. A newer type of suppression, after the Great Depression. To me, it seemed so wild. I received a real saddle, and I never got a paddle. With memories now filed. And since then I do remember, every Christmas in December. I'm no longer a child. I enjoy a simple Christmas, Even tho it's such a business, In the way that it's styled. I know that life will always changeand I'll continue to arrange. It kinda' makes me riled. Christmas should be to celebrate, and to forget our simple hate.'Cause for Christ, it's been compiled. TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS'Twas the night before Christmas out here on the Ranch. And the tree was erected with each matching branch. All the balls were put on with the tinsel attached. With an angel on top and everything matched. Both the children were quiet, no noise would they dare. They hung up their stockings with the greatest of care. Young Johnny would dream of the rope that he wanted. His sister, she wished forthat saddle undaunted. Both children were looking towards this Christmas day. They both knelt by the bedand they started to pray, We're both praying Lord that You'll keep protecting us. While keeping us healthy is an enormous plus. They then praised The Lord for all the things that they had. Knowing whatever they gotthey