North Pole Cowboy

By Hannah Bugas

Some folks still tell the story 

round a campfire’s golden light

‘bout a puncher from the High Plains

who saved one Christmas night.

They say Santa had a problem

one frosty Christmas Eve.

The reindeer herd was actin’ froggy, 

and Santa couldn’t leave.

See, Donner busted Santa’s tug,

and Blitzen bent the gate.

Rudolph spooked at his reflection, 

and Vixen showed up late.

So Mrs. Claus sent word down south

lookin’ for’a guy who’d know

how to handle flighty stock,

especially in the snow.

A cowboy from Wyoming

answered the request. 

He was known for breakin’ raunchy broncs –

some say he was the best.

He rode in with a jinglin’ spur 

and frost atop his hat.

Said, “Heard y’all got some rank old deer. 

Where they buckin’ at?” 

You couldn’t tell by lookin’,

this feller lived down south.

He had frostbit ears, windburnt cheeks

and a grimace for a mouth.

His hair was kinda shaggy,

and his chin could use a shave.

He grunted more than he used words,

and had a bow in his legs.

He built a pen from candy canes, 

and twirled a licorice rope.

He bronc’d old Cupid twice around,

then put Comet in a lope.

He taught Dancer how to pivot left, 

and Dasher to stop at “Woah.”

Got Prancer drivin’ straight and true, 

then placed ‘em in a row. 

With that nine-hitch harnessed,

they circled thrice around, 

steam blowin’ from flared nostrils

and hooves drummin’ on the ground. 

Santa and his missus smiled

that cold and starry night. 

The cowboy let out a hoop’n holler

cause he had ‘em flyin’ right.

Now Santa swears he’ll never go

without his hired hand –

a cowboy born for snowy skies

who rides for the North Pole brand.