'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the farm
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The scoops were hung by the feed bin with care,
In hopes that Farmer Dan soon would be there;
The cows were all nestled all snug in their stalls,
While visions of hay bales danced in their heads;
And Isaac in his bibs, and I in my boots,
Had just settled in for a long winter's nap,
When out in the barnyard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the hayloft to see what was the matter.
Away to the barn door I flew like a flash,
Tore open the door and threw open the gate.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the paddock below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a green John Deere tractor, with two hay bale spears,
With a big burly driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Farmer Dan.
More rapid than rabbits his cattle they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Now Missy! Now, Mitchell! now Charity and Six!
On, Cowboy! on Cece! On, Amber and Rain!
To the end of the stall! To the top of the paddock!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the barn,
The mooing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Through the front gate Farmer Dan came with a bound.
He was dressed in Carhartt's, from his head to his boots,
And his clothes were all dirty with manure and mud;
A bag full of feed he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a farmer just opening his sack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His smile so merry!
His cheeks were all rosy, his nose like a cherry!
His lips were all chapped from the wintery wind,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The handle of his knife he held tight in his teeth,
To cut the twine as it circled the bale like a wreath;
He had a broad face and hard earned muscles,
The strength of those hands like a man who knows work.
He was happy and strong, a right jolly old farmer,
And I smiled when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon let me know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his task,
And filled all the feed pans; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger in front of his lips,
And giving a nod, to the gate he did go;
He climbed on his tractor, and gave the throttle a tug,
And away he rolled like a man on a mission.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!
Adaptation of Clement C. Moore's The Night Before Christmas by Heather Wiley.
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Hello! I am Heather... the city girl turned mom to manure loving country boys. My husband and I both grew up in the city, but spent weekends visiting grandparents in the country. We are first generation farmers who learn best by almost always doing things the hard way. I hope you enjoy following along with our adventures down on the farm.