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, y’all!