Originally published in the Dec. 25, 2013, issue
By Dallas Duncan
Letter from the Editor
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and
all through the farm
Not an animal was stirring, not even in
the barn.
The coveralls were hung by the fire to
dry,
And we all waited for Santa Claus to
drop by.
My kids were nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of Fords and Allis
Chalmers danced in their heads.
And Bonnie Jo in her curlers and I in my
ball cap
Had just settled down for a good night’s
nap,
When out near the pasture I heard such a
ruckus,
I leapt out of bed and reached for my
musket.
Out to the porch I flew like a flash,
To see what on Earth could’a caused that
loud crash.
The moon in the sky was shining mighty
bright
And I squinted to see in all the white
light.
What I saw on the roof made me grasp the
porch rails –
Santa Claus on a tractor pulled by eight
massive Clydesdales!
That jolly old man looked a lot like
Phil, my Pappy,
As he let off the gas and said, “I’m so
happy, happy, happy!”
He called to his elves, who were riding
a plow,
And they ran to him just as fast as
their little legs would allow.
“Now Gary! Now Peaches, now Peanut and
Piney,
On Zippy! On Jersey, on Haygood and
Honey!”
"To the top of the fence! To the top of
the wall!
"We’ve got Christmas spirit to sow,
there’s no time to stall!”
Next thing I knew they were headed to
the chimney
Carrying so much stuff – how’d it all
fit on that jitney?
They had trucks for my boys and a saddle
for my daughter,
Those elves even brought my cattle
bottled water!
As I slipped back inside to watch the
delivery,
Santa and crew came down in their
Christmas livery.
He was dressed all in red, from his head
to his boots,
And his elves wore glittery green camo
suits.
Those burlap sacks full of toys they’d
laid by the tree
And as they unpacked them I couldn’t
wait to see.
There were fruitcakes from Claxton and
pecans from Lane;
A Market
Bulletin subscription and bags of new grain.
The elves giggled and laughed as they
stuffed our stockings
With so many Georgia Georgia gifts, I
just kept gawking.
Santa Claus supervised the entire
exchange,
Eating cookies as he made himself at
home on our range.
He had a big smile and a round potbelly
That shook when he laughed, like a jar
of mayhaw jelly.
He admired our Christmas tree, its
lights all a-twinkle,
And Bonnie Jo’s wrapping, done with
paper that crinkled.
He glanced at the clock and then at his
elves:
“Y’all, we better get a move on,
ourselves.
There’s all of Atlanta and north Georgia
to visit, you know,
So we must be on our way before that
rooster crows.”
They sprang up the chimney as quick as
they came,
Loaded on their tractor and Santa took
the reins.
But I heard him exclaim as they flew out
of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all Georgia
agriculture tonight!”
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