Bunk House Christmas. - Poem by kevin Dunn
We were sitting round the bunkhouse
one Christmas afternoon.
Telling lies and swappin' tales
of Christmases back home.
When an old cowboy we'd taken on
a day or two before,
told us all this Christmas story
and to its truth he swore.
Said we were rounding up the cattle
one snowy Christmas eve.
When all at once there came
a norther rushing in.
Snow flakes as big as birds
the wind was cutting like a knife.
All of a sudden every cowboy
was riding for his life.
It seemed like an eternity
of cold and ice and snow.
But soon the miles were all behind me
Old Buck was bedded down.
And I was in the bunkhouse
standing in the fires glow.
I put on a pot of coffee
filled the kettle, did the chores.
Put the mugs out on the table
settled down to watch the door.
One by one the boys came in
half frozen to the bone.
Cussed their luck 'n' winter storms
and all but one came home.
By midnight it was plain to see
ole Hank had lost his way.
When his mount came home without him
we surely feared the worst.
We'd get what sleep we could
and start the search at break of day.
If any slept it was uneasy
that snowy Christmas night.
When all at once the storm was gone
an hour before daylight.
We heard the jingling of sleigh bells
and the clattering of hooves.
A driver calling to his team
up on the bunkhouse roof.
Just then the door swung open
large as life there stood ole Hank.
On his arm a sack of gifts
Across his face a grin.
He shook the snow from off his boots
and then he stepped on in.
He threw Slim a red bandanna
Billy Joe a lariat.
Will and Jim new silver spurs
for me this Stetson hat.
And then he looked around and laughed
an bent 'n' slapped his knee.
Said 'Boys, Your not gonna believe
what just happened to me.'
Topic(s) of this poem: christmas
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