Kelley (Texas)
New member
I would like to wish all the great folks on this Forum a "Merry Christmas" and a "Happy New Year. I hope that you all enjoy this Christmas poem. Kelley (Texas) 
The Red Calico Cowboy Santa Claus of Concho County
'Twas a snowy Christmas eve some say nearly fifty years ago,
When a cowboy playin' Santa first rode in dyed-red calico.
That takes some doin' in Concho County, Texas, where winter's mild
And snow's uncommon even in December like a red-haired stepchild.
That first ol' Santa Claus was a worn-out cowboy that they called Hartz,
Who for reasons unknown took gifts each year to folk's kids in them parts.
He had an ol' white cowboy hat and calico coat that he dyed red
And he hung brass bells and fresh holly on his saddle it is said.
Oh, he must of looked a sight ridin' alone on each Christmas morn-
But he brought his presents to celebrate the day when Christ was born.
All the cowboys thereabouts would donate money and toys to give,
So as not to overlook the children or the ranches where they lived.
But after some thirty years ol' Hartz, he just up, sat down and died,
And that's when another cowboy took his place by the name of Clyde.
That Clyde was kinda skinny but his heart was made of gold we know,
Though sometimes he strayed from paths of faith with a bottle of Ol' Crow.
So each Christmas we'd hide the hotch till he put on that red jacket
And we'd load up his sack with toys we'd bought and carefully pack it.
This went on twenty years, as we tried to keep tradition alive,
'Cause most of us had been poor kids when that first Santa had arrived!
Now ol' Clyde had grown into his part and was puttin' on some pounds,
'Cause each Christmas they left cookies on the porch when he made his rounds.
And sometimes, if they could, a child's parent would leave a little drink,
To thank ol' Clyde for his work and kindness, and give him pause to think.
Then there came another rare Christmas eve that blew in snow and cold,
As I realized on that bleak day that Clyde truly was gettin' old.
As Clyde left, he tipped his hat-drew close his coat of calico red-
He pulled down his long, false white beard as gruffly he coughed and then said:
"Boys, I dreamt of ol' Hartz last night when he wore this same ol' red coat-
And he said to me 'Take it easy son-don't ride when you can float.'"
Me and none of the cowpokes said a word as Clyde rode off with those toys,
But I had me a bad feelin' as I stared back at those bunkhouse boys.
"Maybe me and Wayne should follow," I said slow with a hollow smile,
"At least till we know he's alright, then we'll come back after awhile."
We caught sight of Clyde ridin' out by the ol' Bob Binder homestead,
As we watched from afar the work of that gent in calico red.
Ol' Clyde seemed some years younger as he bounded quickly to his horse
And headed for the next ranch on his long and cold Christmas course.
It started snowin' harder-worst in years of Concho County lore,
But we kept on followin' Clyde in his yearly Santa Claus chore.
Me and Wayne were now plum tuckered but that ol' Clyde was goin' strong-
We reckoned that all our dark misgivin's sure had been all dead wrong.
We headed back to the ranch knowin' that Clyde would soon follow suit-
But when we got back to the spread all the boys were pure white and mute.
They stood outside the bunkhouse around something blue in the pale snow-
Yet somehow I knew what it was although I had no way to know.
"The Binders found him minutes after you left," choked out Cool Hand Slim,
"At first Bob and Jane thought he was drunk when they first came upon him.
"And derned if those toys were gone-as was his calico coat and hat-
Bob thought if might be robbers, but who'd be so low as to do that?"
"But we just followed ol' Clyde for miles!" both me and Wayne related,
As we looked on his still face at the end of his trail belated.
But who or what it was that night that carried on that tradition,
Left Clyde's hat and coat on his bunk next day in perfect condition.
So now each year I don that garb and deliver Christmas bounty,
As the red calico cowboy Santa Claus of Concho County.
This poem was written by Glen Enlow in 2004.
The Red Calico Cowboy Santa Claus of Concho County
'Twas a snowy Christmas eve some say nearly fifty years ago,
When a cowboy playin' Santa first rode in dyed-red calico.
That takes some doin' in Concho County, Texas, where winter's mild
And snow's uncommon even in December like a red-haired stepchild.
That first ol' Santa Claus was a worn-out cowboy that they called Hartz,
Who for reasons unknown took gifts each year to folk's kids in them parts.
He had an ol' white cowboy hat and calico coat that he dyed red
And he hung brass bells and fresh holly on his saddle it is said.
Oh, he must of looked a sight ridin' alone on each Christmas morn-
But he brought his presents to celebrate the day when Christ was born.
All the cowboys thereabouts would donate money and toys to give,
So as not to overlook the children or the ranches where they lived.
But after some thirty years ol' Hartz, he just up, sat down and died,
And that's when another cowboy took his place by the name of Clyde.
That Clyde was kinda skinny but his heart was made of gold we know,
Though sometimes he strayed from paths of faith with a bottle of Ol' Crow.
So each Christmas we'd hide the hotch till he put on that red jacket
And we'd load up his sack with toys we'd bought and carefully pack it.
This went on twenty years, as we tried to keep tradition alive,
'Cause most of us had been poor kids when that first Santa had arrived!
Now ol' Clyde had grown into his part and was puttin' on some pounds,
'Cause each Christmas they left cookies on the porch when he made his rounds.
And sometimes, if they could, a child's parent would leave a little drink,
To thank ol' Clyde for his work and kindness, and give him pause to think.
Then there came another rare Christmas eve that blew in snow and cold,
As I realized on that bleak day that Clyde truly was gettin' old.
As Clyde left, he tipped his hat-drew close his coat of calico red-
He pulled down his long, false white beard as gruffly he coughed and then said:
"Boys, I dreamt of ol' Hartz last night when he wore this same ol' red coat-
And he said to me 'Take it easy son-don't ride when you can float.'"
Me and none of the cowpokes said a word as Clyde rode off with those toys,
But I had me a bad feelin' as I stared back at those bunkhouse boys.
"Maybe me and Wayne should follow," I said slow with a hollow smile,
"At least till we know he's alright, then we'll come back after awhile."
We caught sight of Clyde ridin' out by the ol' Bob Binder homestead,
As we watched from afar the work of that gent in calico red.
Ol' Clyde seemed some years younger as he bounded quickly to his horse
And headed for the next ranch on his long and cold Christmas course.
It started snowin' harder-worst in years of Concho County lore,
But we kept on followin' Clyde in his yearly Santa Claus chore.
Me and Wayne were now plum tuckered but that ol' Clyde was goin' strong-
We reckoned that all our dark misgivin's sure had been all dead wrong.
We headed back to the ranch knowin' that Clyde would soon follow suit-
But when we got back to the spread all the boys were pure white and mute.
They stood outside the bunkhouse around something blue in the pale snow-
Yet somehow I knew what it was although I had no way to know.
"The Binders found him minutes after you left," choked out Cool Hand Slim,
"At first Bob and Jane thought he was drunk when they first came upon him.
"And derned if those toys were gone-as was his calico coat and hat-
Bob thought if might be robbers, but who'd be so low as to do that?"
"But we just followed ol' Clyde for miles!" both me and Wayne related,
As we looked on his still face at the end of his trail belated.
But who or what it was that night that carried on that tradition,
Left Clyde's hat and coat on his bunk next day in perfect condition.
So now each year I don that garb and deliver Christmas bounty,
As the red calico cowboy Santa Claus of Concho County.
This poem was written by Glen Enlow in 2004.
