Christmas Eve Poem by Smoky Hoss

It's the night before Christmas
and the moon is shinnin' bright.
Stars are lightin' up the heavens
on this cold Montana night.

The rugged mountains tower high
capped white with snow.
Frost is settlin' heavy
on the peaceful valley below.

Smoke from woodstoves blanket
the little cowboy town.
The glow from oil lamps placed in windows
can be seen for miles around.

The road to the ranch house is frozen hard
and slick like slate.
The rusty old hinges let out a moan
as the wind blows the corral gate.

The horses are fed
and tonight they're not puttin' up a fuss.
For even they seem to know 'bout this gift
the creator has given us.

The little farmhouse is filled
with the smell of fresh baked bread.
And the family is gathered 'round the fire
as the Christmas story is read.

Tonight all the troubles from the year
'jist seem to be put away.
For now our thoughts are towards the Christ child
and the manger where he lay.

The conversation among the family is joyful
not a cross word is said.
And no one seems to be in a hurry
to be rushin' off to bed.

When the last of the hot cocoa is finished
and the family finally turns in,
we ask ourselves if there was a knock at our door
would there be room at the inn?

(-written by cowboy poet Tic Palmer of Stevensville, Montana, U.S.A.)