An Old West Christmas Poem for All Our SASS Pards

[Pinto Being, SASS #4476]

Pards, this is a Christmas poem that I conceived back in 1998 when my bride and I attended the Cowboy and Victorian Christmas Ball in Fairplay, Colorado. At the time, I was still doin' cowboy poetry and this was one of many cowboy gatherings that we did annually.

 

After the Ball, my bride and I walked back to the Hand Hotel in historic Fairplay at about 2:00 AM in a very FROSTY, sub-zero snowstorm. Sloshin' through the deep snow after leavin' the raucous party in our vintage duds, I imagined myself back in the heyday of Fairplay and pictured in my (somewhat euphoric) mind, a couple of owlhoots ridin' ice-laden hosses on the tall hill overlookin' the town.

 

When I got back to the hotel, my lady hit the sack, but I was much too awake to sleep. I began to pen the story of two raggedy, but honorable outlaws and what they might have been up to on a very similar, moonstruck night -- a hundred years ago. Picture them in a snowstorm at 12,000 feet above sea level, lookin' down on the the sparklin' lights of old-timey Fairplay, Colorado.

 

I've posted this on Christmas-past and thought I'd do it again. This is for you, pards. I hope you like it...

 

THE BIG, COLD CHASE

 

Jackpot Dokes and Redboot Bill

Were headed for a bunk in Hell.

The men from town were mounted good,

And were quick approachin' where the cowboys stood.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

The snow was light, their hosses fresh

And the posse knew that they'd soon catch

The thieves who stole their prize.

 

Jackpot Dokes and Redboot Bill

Wheeled their mounts and struck the hill.

Pushin' their ponies hard, they fought

Up through the drifts, to the place they sought.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

The snow was deeper, their hosses slowed

But still, in his mind, each rider knowed

Them thieves would pay the price!

 

With one hand froze to the saddle horn,

Jackpot urged his black hoss on.

Redboot put a spur to the grey,

Thinkin' they still might get away.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

With hooves crackin' sharp on the icy slope

The posse began to lose some hope

That the thieves could be caught that night.

 

Glancin' down, Jackpot spied

The followers worn, but comin' hard.

Redboot pulled his hogleg slow

And fired a round above the posse below.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

Like equine engines their hosses blew

Ice-white steam, and each man knew

Them thieves might win this race.

 

Clamberin' up the icy crest,

Jackpot and Redboot swung due west.

'Though Jackpot's tall black hoss was heavin',

And the grey that Redboot forked was weavin',

The cowboys pushed their pace.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

With hosses iced and froze half-over,

The town men finally reached the bower

Where the thieves had stopped their steeds.

 

Jackpot slid the black to a stop

On the frosty-white plain of the mountain top.

Redboot swung from the grey and swore

"I ain't gonna drag that thang no more!"

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

Their hosses now were nearly spent,

When cold words hissed from one ol' gent:

"Them thieves just cain't be caught."

 

Grabbin' their prize between froze gloves,

Jackpot lifted while Redboot shoved.

When they got their plunder stood up straight,

A catbird's grin cracked on each cold face.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

While hoss-hooves crunched on the high plateau

A town man grumbled soft and low,

"I thinks I sees our thieves."

 

While spreadin' wax on hard, green branches

The two cold punchers did stiff-legged dances.

And lightin' some wicks on all them waxes,

The owlhoots thawed their froze moustaches.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

Their hosses beat, the posse neared the pair.

Their whiskers sparkled in the frigid, night air.

The thieves had won the prize...

 

Jackpot howled and stomped around

And Reboot's gunshots shook the ground!

As the weary posse edged up close,

The cowboys let their yodels loose!

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

Their hosses pleased to rest and blow,

The posse dismounted and walked up slow...

 

And they watched the thieves go wild!

 

"Is this glowin' thang you see ahead

What you were chasin'?," Jackpot said.

"Why, we left a trail even YOU could foller,

So's you'd come join us," Redboot hollered.

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

The posse's hosses nuzzled the black and the grey,

And one ol' gent stepped up to say:

"You stole our prize, you thieves!"

 

Jackpot howled a wolf's loud yowl

And stomped the ground in glee.

"What better prize to steal this night,

Than your great, big CHRISTMAS TREE?!"

 

Redboot removed a bright red sash

From around his goose-bumped neck.

He hung it on a needled branch

With gnarled, but gentle hands.

 

And Jackpot said, "This tree was meant

To stand tall on the land.

It should be festooned with pretty stuff.

Come boys, join our band!"

 

Shinin' bars from the moon shone down

And lit the trail for the men from town.

Their hosses grouped on the mountain nook

And shared their warmth with ease,

While the town preacher took from his bag a book,

And said "Now, listen, please."

 

"These cowboys we have captured here

are mentioned in this Book.

They are like the two, who Jesus knew.

And God knows, these boys are crooks!"

 

"But what did they do with their ill-got gain?

They led us to this knoll.

On a wint'ry night, so cold and brisk

So each of us would know,

That God was born of a Virgin Pure

On a night quite like tonight.

So let's festoon this Christmas Tree

And make its lights blaze bright!"

 

Jackpot Dokes and Redboot Bill

Upon hearin' the preacher's words,

Knew then their souls were not goin' to Hell,

And they loosened up their Colts.

 

They fired up high in the sharp night air,

Like men who knew their Lord!

 

And the town men did the same,

 

And friends...

 

That's how this story ends.

 

 

 

~Pinto~

[Clemsum]

OUTSTANDING!!

[Johnny The Kid , SASS 22917]

Thanks Pinto....a great read. And we love Fairplay...I try to get there every time I am in Colorado to see Smitty and Cherie at Colorado Mountain Hat Company.

 

Merry Christmas.

 

Johnny

[Chelsea Kid, #47400]

Hello the fire,

 

Pinto, its been a while since I have see your prose on the wire. I am sure glad you have returned.

 

Merry Christmas to you and all your family and may your writting grace our pages once more.

 

Chelsea

[Pinto Being, SASS #4476]

Glad you liked it, Clemsum!

 

Thanks, Johnny the Kid. If you know Fairplay, you know (or can imagine) what it's like in the Winter. (I capitalized that because Fairplay has Winter, while the rest of the world just has winter.)

 

So good to hear from you, Chelsea Kid! We wish you and yours the best of the Christmas Season, amigo.