‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ranch
Nothing was stirring, not even the snow on a branch;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The guests were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of tubing danced in their heads;
And mamma in her woolies, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out in the pasture there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Untied Bill’s rope curtain ties and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the mile-high snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to the meadow below,
When what to my wondering eyes, but of course,
A cherry red sleigh pulled by a big black horse,
With a handsome driver with the face of a boy,
I knew in a moment he must be Troy.
As he rounded up the herd, through the snow they came
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Trigger! now, Roper! now Mellow! and Tucker!
On, Tonto! on, Mosey! on, Cowboy! and Pucker!
To the top of the cabins! to the top of the Lodge!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As aspen leaves that before the thunder storm fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the tops of the cabins the horses all flew
With saddlebags full of toys, wrangled by Sam and KP, and others too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and stomping of each little hoof.
As I pulled on my bathrobe, and was turning around,
Down the chimney came Charlie with a thump and a bound.
He was dressed all in Carhartt, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of fresh towels he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a ski guide just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his Stormy Kromer hat was all covered with snow;
A leftover scone he held tight in his teeth,
Chef Melissa is making us all round as a wreath;
A radio call from the front desk and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Stocked our firewood, cleaned our hot tub, and delivered more wine; then turned with a jerk,
With a mention of the time tomorrow we should be ready to ski,
And a heads up that Ben would be waiting with coffee,
He sprang to his saddle, to his steed gave a whistle,
And away they flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
Merry Christmas from all of us at the ranch. We hope you have a wonderful holiday!