‘Twas the night before Christmas and all down the lane,
not a creature was stirring not even our LGD Jane
The calf bucket was hung in his stall with great care
In the hopes that warm milk soon would be there
The piglets were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of sugar beets danced in their heads
And Mama in her muck boots
Photograph taken by Don Nevins
and I in my cap
Had just finished mucking all of the horse cr*p*
When out on the farm, there arose such a clatter
I threw down my manure fork to see what was the matter
Away to the chicken coop, I flew like a flash.
I jumped over chickens and past Brad, feeling whiplash
photograph taken by Don Nevins
With the moon on the back of the two billy goats
It shined like the sun on Neptune’s white coat
When what to my wondering eyes might appear
But a giant pink tractor**, which may have (originally) been a John Deere.
With the little blond driver so lively and whack,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Jack.
His wheels crashed like thunder through fallow garden beds
I whistled and shouted and grabbed at his treads.
Move Jennifer! Move Sophie, move Burley and Jane!
Run Chickens run turkey, run piglets, I exclaimed
I chased after Jack as he drove out of sight,
Jack giggled and chortled and flashed a smile quite bright
Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!
* Horse Apples
**Everything in our version of this famous Christmas story is true with only minor embellishments except the reference to the giant pink tractor. We are hoping for a tractor in 2011. Let’s see if that all shakes out, and no, Jack will not be allowed to drive it.
Pink Guitar Farm 
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