Our snowmen, they're not made of white.
They're tumbleweeds, rolled up tight.
No top hat upon his head,
a cowboy hat sits there instead.
His face and buttons, tree ornaments,
boots and lariat, his accoutrements.
Saguaro cacti with lights wrapped 'round,
illuminate the landscaped grounds.
Old horse drawn wagons get a festive touch,
with lighted garland, packages and such.
Porch rails glow with colored lights,
Christmas trees in windows, warm the nights.
Our little town gets all decked out,
then we gather along the parade route.
Folks on horseback with ribbons and bells,
the horses know that old route well.
Marching school band play Christmas songs,
trucks and tractors carry carolers along.
Floats abound from businesses and groups,
braving the cold, the Christmas cowboys troop.
We all stand up to clap and cheer,
as Santa, as usual, brings up the rear.
Waving his red cowboy hat, in a horse drawn sleigh,
Welcoming Christmas, The Wickenburg way.