T'was the night before Christmas,
and all through the trailer
park,
not a pop-top was poppin',
not even Ole Blue barked.
Our
stockin's was hung
over the space heater with care,
in the hopes that
Santy
would fill 'em with Viennas and beer.
The kids was
asleep
in their NASCAR pj's,
Dreamin' of Goo Goo Clusters,
Moon
Pies, and Milkyway's.
And Earlene in her curlers
and me in my
Earnhardt cap,
had just settled into our La-Z-Boys
for Wheel of Fortune
and a nap.
Then out in the vacant lot
I heart such a
commotion,
I thought it was neighbor Clyde,
finally got his T'bird in
motion.
I heaved out of my recliner
and to the window I
flew,
Busted out the screen
and hollered to Ole Blue.
The moon
was shinin down
on my old wrecked cars,
so bright they was
sparklin'
like rusty old stars.
And I couldn't believe
by own
hardworkin' eyes,
when a jacked-up Chevy pickup
come flyin' through the
sky!
Faster'n Ole Ironhead
his possums they came,
and he whooped
and hollered
and called 'em by name:
"Git up Sooner! Hi
Duke!
Move yer tails Yaller and Spud!
On Blackie! On Queenie!
You
mind me Duchess and Bud!"
"To the top of the satellite dish!
To the
top of the shed!
Now move it n' step on it!
Ya'll get out the
lead!"
You know how on our old road
whenev'r a car goes
by,
there's all this dirt
that flys up into the sky?
That's how
this crew
went straight on up to my roof,
with that pickup full of
toys,
a real nice gun rack, and Redneck Santa too.
Then 'fore I
could pop my teeth in
I heerd up on the tin,
the scrabbling
around
of them flying possums of his'n.
I yanked my head back in
the trailer
and hitched up my shorts,
Down the dryer vent Redneck Santa
came
with a grunt and a snort!
He was dressed in red-and-green
camo
from his neck to his feet,
and I had to give him credit
he
still had most of his teeth.
Looked like stuff from Earlene's yard
sale
slung on his back,
There was flyswatters an' Tupperware,
an'
8-tracks stickin' out of his pack.
When he winked his eye
I knew
fer sure he'd treat us right,
why, he just might even
leave me some
ammo tonight!
I stood there dreamin' of a whitetail
while I watched
him work,
then he stopped and like a real man,
let out a fart and a
burp.
He topped off our stockin's
with Moon Pies and bottle
rockets,
then squoze up that dryer vent
like Spam in your
pocket.
He jumped in his pickup,
laid down on the horn,
And I'm
not lyin',
they took off with their possum tails flyin'.
But I
heerd him holler
as he headed for the 7-11,
"Merry Christmas to
all!
And may all rednecks get into heav'n!"
[Mother Shiptons Prophecy] [Poetry]
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