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Twas the Night Before Roundup!
The Cactus Kid!

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

Not one thing was 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,

visions of bar girls danced in their heads.

I took off my spurs, time for bed I believe

Cause tomorrow is Christmas and this is the Eve’

When out on the range there came 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 hoopin 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 stomping and snorting, down the prairie they came

He whistled and shouted and called them by name

“Now Thunder, Now Queenie, Now Blackie and Paint

On “Toby” on “Smokie” on Silver and Saint.

Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up ye dang Fools,

They got cattle to round-up and branding of Bulls.”

Eight horses and Stage Coach stopped in the yard

Took a swig from his jug and slapped o’le 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 ranch hands still slept.

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

Turned to the right for a tobacco stained spat.

Shouting and waving as he rode out of site,

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

My apologies to “Clement Clarke Moore” (original author of “Twas the night before Christmas”) but I thought it was time for a western version of this poem.-- Clyde

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