Asleep in their cabin Were Buddy and Sue A dreamin' of Christmas Like me and like you.
Not stockings, but boots At the foot of their bed, For this was in Texas, What more can be said.
When all of a sudden From out 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 out at a run.
The driver was geein' And hawin' with will, And horses, not reindeer, He drove with such skill.
C'mon Buck and Poncho, And Prince to the right, There'll be plenty o travelin' For ya'll tonight.
The driver in Levi's And a shirt that was red, Had a 10-gallon Stetson On top of his head.
As he stepped from his buckboard He was really a sight, A beard and a moustache So curly and white.
As he burst in the cabin, The children awoke, And were both so astonished, That neither one spoke.
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 Santa Claus?" "Am I the real Santa? Well, what do you think?" And he smiled as he gave A mysterious wink.
Then he lept in the buckboard And said in his drawl,
'To the children of Texas, Merry Christmas, ya'll.
-- Joan Winmill Brown
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