By Ron Wilkies at Integral Consultants.
It 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!”