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The Christmas Trail · Ririro.com - Poetry

• 0:00
  Speaker 1: The Christmas trail. The wind is blowin cold down the
• 0:05
  Speaker 1: mountain tips of snow, and cross the ranges, layin' brown
• 0:10
  Speaker 1: and dead. It's crying through the valley trees that wear
• 0:14
  Speaker 1: the mistletoe, and mournin with the gray clouds overhead. Yet
• 0:20
  Speaker 1: it's sweet with the beat of my little hawses feet,
• 0:24
  Speaker 1: and I whistle like the air was warm and blue.
• 0:28
  Speaker 1: For I'm ridin up the Christmas trail to you, old folks.
• 0:34
  Speaker 1: I'm a ridin' up the Christmas trail to you. Oh
• 0:38
  Speaker 1: maybe it was good when the winny of the spring
• 0:42
  Speaker 1: had wheedled me to hoppin' of the bars, and livin
• 0:46
  Speaker 1: in the shadow of a sailin Buzzard's wing, and sleepin'
• 0:50
  Speaker 1: underneath a roof of stars. But the bright camp fire
• 0:55
  Speaker 1: light only dances for a night, while the home fire
• 0:58
  Speaker 1: burns forever, ver, clear and true. So round the year,
• 1:04
  Speaker 1: I circle back to you, old folks, round the roven year,
• 1:09
  Speaker 1: I circle back to you. Oh maybe it was good
• 1:14
  Speaker 1: when the reckless summer sun had shot a charge of
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  Speaker 1: fire through my veins, and I milled around the whiskey
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  Speaker 1: and the fightin' and fun mong the Mavericks drifted from
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  Speaker 1: the plains. I the pot bubbled hot while you reckoned,
• 1:31
  Speaker 1: I'd forgot, and the devil smacked the young blood in
• 1:35
  Speaker 1: his stew. Yet I'm loviin' every mile that's nearer you,
• 1:40
  Speaker 1: good folks, lovin' every blessed mile that's nearer you. Oh
• 1:46
  Speaker 1: maybe it was good at the round up in the fall,
• 1:50
  Speaker 1: when the clouds of ball and dust before us ran,
• 1:54
  Speaker 1: and the pride of rope and saddle was a drivin
• 1:57
  Speaker 1: of us, all to stretch of nerve and muscle, man
• 2:02
  Speaker 1: and man. But the pride sort of died when the
• 2:06
  Speaker 1: man got weary eyed. Twas a sleepy boy that rode
• 2:10
  Speaker 1: the night guard through, and he dreamed himself along a
• 2:14
  Speaker 1: trail to you, old folks, dreamed himself along a happy
• 2:20
  Speaker 1: trail to you. The coyotes winter howl cuts the dusk
• 2:25
  Speaker 1: behind the hill, but the ranches shining window I can see,
• 2:31
  Speaker 1: And though I don't deserve it, and I reckon never will,
• 2:35
  Speaker 1: they'll be room beside the fire kept for me. Skimp
• 2:40
  Speaker 1: my plate cause I'm late. Let me hit the old
• 2:43
  Speaker 1: kid gate for tonight. I'm stumblin tired of the new
• 2:48
  Speaker 1: and I'm riding up the Christmas Trail to you old folks.
• 2:52
  Speaker 1: I'm a ridin up the Christmas Trail to you