by Dalton Wilcox, Poet Laureate of the West
It was Christmas time out in the West,
the time of year cowboys like the best.
But I had had a real hard year
and was not filled with Christmas cheer.
I’d lost 20 head of cattle to a vampire coven,
and another girlfriend had been found with her head in the oven.
And I know what happens when you feel this way,
when Christmas comes and you are not gay.
So I kept my ear out for those three Christmas spirits,
If a ghost tried to get me, I’d damn well hear it.
And sure enough, a ghost!
The thing next to vampires and mummies that a cowboy fears the most!
It came at me to remind me of bad things from my past,
like the time I ran over a family ‘cause I was driving a little too fast.
Yes, he came in the form of Sheriff Lomax with a warrant for hit and run
And that ghost that got the action end of my Smith and Wesson gun
I was trying to bury him when the next ghost did appear,
the Ghost of Christmas Present in the form of Jimmy Greer,
my old ranch hand,
trying to haunt me about burying a man,
So I hit him with the shovel and began to dig again.
The ghost of Christmas future was a fella from the bank.
I stuffed his nose and mouth with money as a funny kind of prank.
And after that, a strange thing happened: I was in a better mood.
Those Christmas ghosts had done their job, I was no longer being rude.
I told a boy to buy me the biggest goose in town.
He turned out to be a mummy, so I had to gun him down.
But it’s shaping up to be the greatest Christmas of them all.
So from the heart of the West, comes a cheerful cry:
“Merry Christmas one and all!”