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Cowboy Christmas Poems | Cowboy Poems About Christmas

These Cowboy Christmas poems are examples of Cowboy poems about Christmas. These are the best examples of Cowboy Christmas poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Cowboy | |

A Lonely Christmas

I walked up to the bunkhouse, beneath a cloudless sky,
searching to find the Christmas star, still shining there on high.
The bunkhouse was warm but lonesome with no other cowboys there.
They had all gone home for Christmas. I pretended not to care.

Christmas carols on the radio brought back thoughts of the star
that had shown down on those pastures in that Eastern land so far.
Taking off my vest and Sunday shirt, I threw them on the trunk.
I stripped down to my underwear and crawled into my bunk.

My day had started early. I had worked hard with the crew, 
so they could start their Christmas fun, when all the chores were through.
With no wife nor kids to need me, I had told the rest I'd stay
and watch out for the cattle.  They could have their Christmas Day.

The warm room made me sleepy and I started into doze.
Right there before my astounded eyes, the Christmas Star arose. 
I was a lonely shepherd in that land so far away,
who had been left to guard the sheep until the break of day.

I heard the angels singing and saw the moving star.
I marveled at the beauty and glory from afar.
The bright star beckoned to me and angels led the way
to where the future king of all lay in a mound of hay.

I wanted so to follow them but I had pledged my word.
I had to turn  a deaf ear to the messages I heard.
I knew my solemn duty lay in guarding helpless sheep.
I prayed the Lord's forgiveness but the vigil I must keep.

The star reflected in the eyes of creatures all around,
waiting for the lonely stray or any sheep they found.
I could not shirk my duty to seek Him out that night, 
but I knew I never would forget that glorious, wondrous sight.

I had that dream some years ago, but should that star reappear,
I've hung my rope and saddle up.  I can follow with no fear.

Posted: 12/1/14  For "One of your best" contest


Details | Light Poetry | |

Its Christmas Time in Dodge City

(To the tune of Silver Bells) Wooden sidewalks, and the shop fronts, Dressed in wild western style In the jail there’s a feeling of Christmas Cattle mooing, cowboys shooting Riding mile after mile And down at the Long Branch you hear Silver spurs, silver spurs It’s Christmas time in Dodge City Jing-a-ling, saloon girls sing Soon it will be Christmas day. Mobs in street fights try to stay polite While they bleed red and scream As the towns folk rush home To take cover Hear the jaws crunch See the kids bunch It’s Matt Dillon’s big scene As he catches the rustlers you’ll hear Silver spurs, silver spurs It’s Christmas time in Dodge City Jing-a-ling, saloon girls sing Soon it will be Christmas day. Silver spurs, silver spurs Soon it will be Christmas day. Soon it will be Christmas day.
When we travel in the car we sing to the radio. The other night, Silver Bells came on and I sang Dodge City to make my wife laugh.


Details | Couplet | |

Unknown

Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.


Details | Couplet | |

Christmas Sleigh Ride

The sleigh bells jingle merrily across the horses backs,
The snowflakes fall around us, filling the horses tracks;

The silver silence broken by boisterous Christmas songs,
Midnight chimes on the clock over head but we’re still going strong;

The whiskey warms our insides as we pass the bottle around,
Aside from the caroling voices, the night doesn’t make a sound;


We’re snuggled under blankets, breath fogging in the air;
Riding along with family and friends, living without a care!


Details | Limerick | |

Belief

GOD: the goodness of determination,
a standard for better living creation.
to differentiate a civil or wild nation,
for smoothness a better flow no tension,
only patience, belief, trust asks to confirm.


Details | Cowboy | |

A Cowboy Christmas

On a cowboy Christmas in the west.
Another cowboy Christmas song and dance.
Driving our herd.Drinking our ale.
As we make our way.Along the trail.

Ranch lights glistening.
Children listening.
To hear; Santa's sleigh bells in the snow.

On a cowboy Christmas in the west.
I think this Christmas.We'll be blessed.
We'll drive our cattle.Pull off that saddle.
Then we'll get ourselves some rest.

Ranch lights glistening.
Children listening.
To hear; Santa's sleigh bells in the snow.

On a cowboy Christmas in the west.
Our cowboy Christmas is the best.
Firewood burning.Charcoal churning..
Santa Claus smiling with the rest.

Ranch lights glistening.
Children listening.
To hear; Santa's sleigh bells in the snow..

Cowboy Christmas Song-Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2005,2014..ALL rights reserved..


Details | Rhyme | |

My Greatest Gift

When I received the greatest gift,
Was Christmas when I was ten;
That present gives my soul a lift,
When I think of it now and then;

I didn’t see a box with my name,
When I searched under the tree;
 I thought my parents were playing a game,
And had hidden it from me;

I waited oh so patiently,
For my gift on Christmas Day;
And when mom put a blindfold on me,
I didn’t know quite what to say;

She marched me out the front door,
And held my hand so tight;
Just when I thought I could take no more,
I saw that glorious sight;

My dad was holding the reins,
To a horse with a big red bow;
He had ribbons tied in his mane, 
With a coat that seemed to glow;

I burst out into happy tears,
As I reached out to touch his face;
It’s a moment I’ve remembered for many years,
No other could take it’s place;

My greatest gift was “Lucky”,
My horse so tried and true;
And I hope you’ll be as lucky,
To have a gift like that for you!


Details | Free verse | |

Once Upon A Christmas

I stand at the window and watch the snow fall 
It's been two hours since Billy left 
The wind has built, a blizzard set in 
And I can't put my mind at rest. 

The snow has drifted blocking the road he took 
But he knows his job, the cattle must be watered and fed 
And hay for the baby calves to bed. 
"I'll be all right," he said. 

There is no school it is Christmas vacation 
The radio predicted conditions to worsen. 
With his family save and warm 
He then sets about caring for those out in the storm. 

TV and presents keep the children entertained 
While I my hair do pull. 
Dinner is ready and still Billys not home 
And with questions like "When's daddy coming home? 
And "Can I go out and play in the snow?" 

It is hard for them to understand 
It isn't just a snow fall, the danger is far to grave 
Wander to far and they could be lost 
And in turn perhaps lose their lives. 

Two o'clock, three o'clock, four o'clock came 
Finally Billy comes through the door 
Wet, exhausted and frozen to the bone 
He removed his outer garments and collapsed on the chair. 

As he ate the children came 
Excited to have daddy home 
Satisfied he was safe and sound 
They went back to their TV and games. 

Chore time came and the blizzard ruled 
I offered to do my share 
He smiled and said, "Everything's fine. 
Just the cow to milk and the pigs to feed 
And I'll be right back inside. " 

I put on my coat took shovel in hand 
And worked at clearing the path. 
In an hour it would be covered again 
But I needed to have some fresh air. 

All were in bed, the Christmas tree bright 
The Nativity set caught my eye 
Tenderly I picked up the manger, bow my head and say 
"Thank You Baby Jesus and Happy Birthday."

                                                                Cile Beer


Details | Quintain (English) | |

Jingle Bells

We’re cuddled up now, 
In the back of the sleigh;
Listening as the bells jingle,
In a Merry Christmas way!


Details | Ode | |

A COWBOY SAVES CHRISTMAS

A long time ago and far to the west 
Lived outlaws and rustlers unlike the rest. 
Let me tell you a story you don't often hear 
Of how Jerry Jing-Jang saved Christmas one year. 

On a cold Christmas eve with the snow drifted deep 
Rusty the rustler just couldn't sleep. 
Feeling sad for himself as that north wind did blow 
'Cause you can't rustle cattle in six feet of snow. 

When an idea was hatched by one desperate guy 
Of what he might do with reindeer that fly. 
Rusty the rustler jumped out of bed 
And off to the orphanage that dirty rat sped. 

He climbed up to the rooftop and hid in the snow 
And waited for Santa and the reindeer to show. 
With so many stockings, Santa was busy below 
Rusty took the reins and shouted "Let's go!" 

Santa's reindeer stood firm refusing to run 
So Rusty unhitched them and pulled out his gun. 
He told all the reindeer "Now you do as I say," 
He fired a warning and they all ran away. 

Then up from the chimney Santa did pop 
And saw none of his reindeer on the rooftop. 
He sent for the sheriff, who of course was no use 
He just said he was sorry the reindeer were loose. 

"It's Jerry Jing-Jang you need with his horse and his pup 
A cowboy's what's needed to round them all up." 
Jerry Jing-Jang was sent for and he arrived right away 
To find Santa's reindeer who'd all gone astray. 

Dancer and Rudolph very soon were found 
By a collie named Roundup with his nose to the ground. 
Jerry Jing-Jang was worried 'cause he'd only found two 
But Santa had a fine idea just what they could do. 

Jerry Jing-Jang rode Rudolph and Santa rode Dancer 
Dog and cowboy could find them and for Santa they'd answer. 
Riding on reindeer the job didn't take very long 
For Rudolph was fast and Dancer was strong. 

The reindeer again were soon hitched to the sleigh 
And Santa was ready to go on his way. 
He gave the cowboy a present, a harmonica to play 
When he sat by the fire at the end of the day. 

As Santa thanked Jerry Jing-Jang for his help 
From the sleigh there came a frightened yelp. 
The sheriff had let Rusty get away, 
And the outlaw had hidden in Santa's sleigh. 

Then Santa laughed "Ho! Ho! Ho! 
To the North Pole this fellow must go. 
Feeding reindeer takes a man strong and tall 
And I am too busy and the elves are too small. 

Rusty looked to Jerry Jing-Jang as his face went pale 
And the cowboy asked him if he'd prefer a jail. 
This is the story that's not often told 
Of how a cowboy saved Christmas in days of old.


BY
DARRYL ASHTON


Details | Rhyme | |

A Cowboy Christmas

"A Cowboy Christmas" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques".

Christmas morning, Christmas morning,
'Neath the tree, 'neath the tree,
I found a hobby horse,
I found a hobby horse,
Giddyup, yip-pee!
Giddyup, yip-pee!


Details | Cowboy | |

Christmas Toy

I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy
One that's not feeling all that fine
That's because all I want for Christmas is to be a kids toy
One that will always be mine

I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy
To all you grandfolks I do plead
Stright from this old cowboy's heart
Please find a lonesome kid for me

I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy
One that's always been left behind
'N let me tell ya, at Christmas time, that don't feel very fine
All it does is to make want to cry

I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy

HAPPY CHRISTMAS
TRULY BillyWild
p o 8 c o w b o y @ a o l . c o m


Details | Narrative | |

A Lonely Christmas

The foreman and his missus
Had invited me to share
Their supper on this Christmas Eve
And to join their evening prayer.
Their little ones with shining eyes
Gazed at the Christmas tree,
Excited about their Christmas socks
And the presents they would see.
I walked back to the bunkhouse
Beneath a cloudless sky,
Searching to find the Christmas star
Still shining there on high.
The bunkhouse was warm, but lonesome
With no other cowpokes there.
They'd all gone home for Christmas.
I pretended not to care.
Christmas carols on the radio
Brought back thoughts of the star
That had shone down on those pastures
In that Eastern land so far.
Taking off my vest and Sunday shirt,
I threw them on the trunk.
I stripped down to my underwear
And crawled into my bunk.
My day had started early.
I had worked hard with the crew
So they could start their Christmas fun
When all the chores were through.
With no wife nor kids to need me
I had told the rest I'd stay
And watch out for the cattle.
They could have their Christmas Day.
The warm room made me sleepy
And I started in to doze.
Right there before my bugging eyes
The Christmas Star arose.
I was a lonely shepherd
In that land so far away,
Who had been left to guard the sheep
Until the break of day.
I heard the angels singing
And saw the moving star.
I marveled at the wonder
And glory from afar.
The bright star beckoned to me
And angels led the way
To where the future King of All
Lay in the mound of hay.
I wanted so to follow them
But I had pledged my word.
I had to turn a deaf ear to
The messages I heard.
I knew my solemn duty lay
In guarding helpless sheep.
I prayed the Lord's forgiveness but
The vigil I must keep.
The star reflected in the eyes
Of creatures all around,
Waiting for the lonely stray
Or any sheep they found.
I could not shirk my duty,
To seek Him out that night,
But I knew I never would forget
That glorious, wondrous sight.
I had this dream some years ago,
But should that star reappear
Ive hung up my rope and saddle.
I can follow with no fear.

Buy: Joyce  Johnson (Posted in Cowboy Poetry. Com Dec. 2007)


Details | Cowboy | |

Don't Ever Sell Your Saddle

It’s been ‘bout thirty years now, to this Christmas day
And I can still hear those wise words that Dad did say:
“Don’t ever sell your saddle, don’t quit balin’ hay—
When ya give your word, keep it—it’s a real man’s way.”

I wish that I could swear I’ve lived up to his words,
But like the truth sometimes, they’ve flown off with the birds.
It’s not to say I’ve tired, and mostly I’ve been true—
But if I could do things over, there’s some I’d undo.

Well, I’m still balin’ hay and my word I always keep,
I’ve got a good woman and I sing the kids to sleep.
We keep the ranch a goin’ and we’re doin’ just fine,
But I regret sellin’ Dad’s saddle back in ninety-nine.

Times were tough and we scraped every cent that year—
At a Christmas eve auction sold some cows, a steer—
Then it came down to Dad’s saddle and some ol’ tack—
‘Course that saddle brought the most cash and that’s a fact.

Couldn’t figure out who bought it—never seen ‘em before—
When he bought that saddle, he was quick out the door.
One year later, there came a knock on Christmas day—
There stood the stranger with Dad’s saddle and he did say:

“Fixed it up and brought it back—this is where it should be—
Your Dad, me and Zack, used to cowboy and they told me
A man shouldn’t sell his saddle, so here it is again—
Think of it as a gift from someone who was a friend.”

(continued)


Details | Cowboy | |

"DRIVIN' CHRISTMAS"

As the sun starts to rise, This cowboy opens his eyes, Dew trapped in the mornin' frost. I thank God for my freedom, All the times I need 'im, I tend to forget the cost. I ride o'er this prairie, Durin' this season to be merry, Ponderin' the year that has past. Often times were good, More than there should, Occasionally my luck didn't last. Now it's deep in December, Ah, the prairie 'n its splendor, A hawk as it circles the sky. A cowboy could get soft, On new hay in a loft, 'N a roof to keep his bedroll dry. My leg draped o'er the tree, The horn in the bend of my knee, I look out across these vast plains. I heave a big sigh, Swipe a tear from my eye, Sat up 'n take hold the reins. We've been drivin' this herd, For a week 'n a third, I figure one week more. If the weather holds out, We'll make it no doubt, But nature could even the score. Tomorrow they say, Will be Christmas Day, I thank God for the Miracle Birth. Jesus 'as sent here to save us, That's the gift God gave us, Certainly more than this cowboy's worth. By Jim "Ish" Fellers Copyright ©: December 11, 2003 ~ Thursday


Details | Rhyme | |

Cowboy Christmas

The rangy longhorns were rounded up and tended to.
Over the Colorado plains a fearsome blizzard blew!
'Twas Christmas Day!  The cowpokes paid no mind to the storm,
As they huddled 'round the potbellied stove all snug and warm!

While 'Cooky' stuffed the turkey for their Christmas fare,
Frivolity, fun and comradeship filled the air!
The old bunkhouse was decorated as best they could.
In a corner a tree formed from tumbleweeds stood.

They recalled Christmases past when they were boys,
Sharin' happy family lore and distant Yuletide joys.
One read from Luke the story of Jesus and the manger.
He is their faithful sidekick - to them He is no stranger!

They sang carols accompanied by a harmonica and guitar,
And sipped spicy cider and coffee as black as tar!
With cups of wassail they proposed raucous toasts,
And regaled each other with timely and witty ripostes!

'Cooky' yelled, "Come 'n git it, all's ready 'round the board!"
They doffed their hats for the blessin' and thanked the Lord.
Though the hoi polloi celebrated at the Ritz with gala parties,
That would never do for these range ridin' hearties!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | I do not know? | |

Christmas In A Cow Camp

He was  a crusty old cowboy, that was all he knew
His home, living in an old cow camp shack
It was a cold December, with snow everywhere
An old wood burning stove, his coffee to brew
His saddle, bed roll, and hat on the hat rack
Getting ready for another cold night out there

They brought him his grub and supply
Once a month, if they could get in
Every morning he was up early to check the cattle
Chopping ice for the cattle to drink or die
Knowing the next morning, he would do it all over again
Freezing cold and his teeth would rattle

On Christmas Eve, he found a baby calf in the snow
The mother had died, giving birth to the little one
He carried him back on his saddle to the old cow damp
Built a fire on the wood burning stove, outside it was ten below
Knowing that is what a good shepherd would have done
Getting the baby calf back on track

Spring had sprung and in began to thaw
The two grew to become quite a pair
Everyday the calf was by his side, cowboy in the saddle
Always fight together, like a outlaw to a gun
The calf would follow him to God knows where
The old cowboy would say, "Come on Christmas, let's go check the cattle"


Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboy Christmas Toast

May you celebrate the spirit
Of all good things on this earth—
May you ride down all the right trails
And pay honor to Christ’s birth.


Details | Cowboy | |

Face In the Snow

Sly had him no love for Christmas,
It was just another day—
When the devout celebrated
And weak-willed cowpokes did pray.

Old Sly, he weren’t all that bad—
No, by gosh, he sure was not—
He never did shoot him a man
That he didn’t think need shot. 

Sly Stern was just an old drover
Who outlived his friends and time—
That was headed nowhere that day
Without a care or a dime.

So it was Christmas that morning
As he crossed the Mummy Range—
Heading higher and still higher,
When he felt a little strange.

He’d crossed these old mountains before,
But never on Christmas day—
Yet now he felt a bit confused
And he couldn’t find his way.

The wind and the cold grew fiercer—
Snow hit his face with hard slaps,
Sly knew he needed some shelter
As one hand froze to his chaps.

But all he could find was a ledge,
A wind break with icy sage.
He unsaddled his horse gently—
For the first time felt his age.

Quickly, Sly gathered up damp wood—
Built a fire to heat his soul—
Christ seemed nothing in a blizzard
As the snow soon took its toll.

Hours passed and so did the fire
As white snow whirled and then screamed—
For a moment he saw a face
Or so that old drover dreamed.

The blizzard grew stronger that day,
The worst in thirty odd years—
Covering the whole Mummy Range:
A Christmas with joy and tears.

With numb hands and ice-cased whiskers,
Sly took bullets from his belt,
Gently arranged them in the snow
To spell out just how he felt.

For in those final dear moments,
One face appeared in the snow—
The face of the Lord of this earth,
A face that he would now know.

Two months later his friend found it,
Next to his rock-frozen hoss—
The old drover’s bullets laid out
In the rough shape of the cross.

Though his saddle and gun remained,
There was no trace of old Sly—
It was as if he’d been taken
Away, far up, in the sky. 


Details | Cowboy | |

Blue Moon Christmas (continued)

But she would not even read it – she knew what lay within—
A red rage toward her country now the fire that was her friend.
Yet just a few days later on a now black Christmas Eve—
Another knock was heard from a cowboy come home on leave.

And Jim Blue Moon stood on the porch with presents in one arm,
A proof against dark forces wishing all of us great harm. 
He said like Twain, news of his death was exaggerated—
And with smiles his wife helped him in, and they celebrated.

Yet in the haze of happiness and all her loving care,
Only now did Liz realize Blue’s left arm was not there.
But snatching life from death’s dark rider is a precious thing,
And nothing could dispel the joy their reunion would bring.  

Then came the new Christmas day, which now seemed so clear and bright—
Yet Blue held back - flexed his cold metal arm in morning light.
“I wonder if it was worth it?” Blue mumbled at the sight—
But Liz nodded and said: “Yes, you did the thing that was right.”  

Then they slowly opened presents - three united again—
Later dad and mom came over, and each rodeo friend.
“PBR’s done,” dad whispered in a voice like from the grave—
“Heck no!” Blue then replied, “I just lost the arm that I wave!” 

Sure enough, with prosthetic arm, Blue rode the bulls once more—
Till he volunteered to go back to that faraway shore.
Alone, Jim’s wife held their child and the inner one so new—
As a full, pale Christmas moon rose and slowly turned to blue. 




Details | Cowboy | |

Don't Ever Sell Your Saddle

(continued)

It had been over ten years since Dad passed away—
Stood lookin’ at the stranger, didn’t know what to say.
Dad never told us much ‘bout his life out on the range,
But he did mention his best pard, a man called Bob Strange.

We thanked Bob and asked him to join our Christmas feast,
He said no need for thanks, that this was just the least
He could do to help out the boy of his ol’ pal
And that he had to get back to the North Corral.

I was awful glad to see my Dad’s saddle back,
When a few weeks later I came across ol’ Zack.
Out of the blue I asked if he heard of Bob Strange—
He nodded and said yes, then his smile began to change.
He wondered why I asked ‘bout someone I never met—
I told him ‘bout Dad’s saddle and he began to fret.
“Ya understand,” Zack said, “Bob’s been dead twenty year.”
That’s when I turned grim and my smile did disappear.

“But I just talked to him,” I said, “back on Christmas day!”
“You’re wrong,” Zack said, “but I ‘member what he used to say:
Don’t ever sell your saddle, don’t quit balin’ hay—
When ya give your word, keep it—it’s a real man’s way!” 


Details | Cowboy | |

Blue Moon Christmas

Jimmie’s dad was bent and wise, a man that life had rode by—
But Jim still recalled his words when he would laugh and half cry:
“Life’s a fragile balance between honor and what’s true—
A rare, livin’ miracle like a winter moon that’s blue.” 

Jimmie started busting sheep when he was only six—
His dad taught him to ride and shoot, and do those fancy tricks.
He grew long and lean on that ranch and helped with the chores—
And rode the broncs and young bulls then, keeping track of his scores.

His name was Jimmie Moon, but his friends just called “Blue”—
‘Cause kids like him were few and far and his heart was strong and true.
He had wisdom beyond his years – he had seen the light—
He never did the easy thing; he did the thing that’s right.

It came as no surprise; he married a girl named Liz
Folks knew was large with child that was another man’s, not his.
But that was fine with Blue and he still followed his star—
Ranching now part-time and riding bulls in the PBR.

“It’s not like the ol’ days,” smiled his dad, not being funny—
“Then bull ridin’ was for buckles – now you’re talkin’ money!”
But just as Jimmie Blue Moon was on the edge of fame—
September 11th happened and stirred within a flame.

Though his family begged him not to sign and go away—
He enlisted in the Army just the very next day.
Sure enough, his service to a cause became a fact
And he was sent far off to war in a place called Iraq.

Then months and years rolled by as Blue only rode iron tanks—
Never forgetting his wife and child, for which he gave thanks.
Then came a Christmas season when Blue’s ranch was deep with snow—
A knock on the door brought news Blue’s wife did not want to know.

(continued)