Texas Claus

Way up north, in panhandle snow,
Lies the famous “Noel Ranch.”
Kin to St. Nick, cousins for sure,
But this is the Southern branch.

Black pointed boots, beer belly does hang,
Over a lone star buckle on his belt.
Red leather duds, with black Brahma trim,
Topped by a white Stetson of felt.

Texans are special, they’re visited twice,
Santa takes care of the kiddie’s toys.
For more adult tastes, Ole Texas delights,
Bringing goodies for oriented joys.

Not army of elves, but harem of nymphs,
Fill his bulging sacks all year long.
Christmas Eve chance, to unload finally,
He heads south singing country songs.

Nine wild horses pull, a stagecoach on skis,
Crack of whip puts them all in flight.
Flood lamps do hang, on lead mare in front,
Beaming a lit path into the frosty night.

Oils and cremes for Marge, love beads for Kathleen,
Randall wants this month’s Hustler.
Pocket fun for gramps, granny needs batteries,
To the rescue comes a kinky Texas rustler.

Blow-up Stan for Susan, also one for Burt?
Carla and Becky want strap-on thrills.
“Years worth of Trojans,” night owl Crystal signs,
“Hey Texas, I hafta pay my bills.”

Stainless cuffs for Roxanne, fluffy ones broke,
The twins want leather cat suits tight.
Clamps for Terence? “Man, that’s wild,”
But a three-inch extension for his wife?

All that write get treats, sexy fun galore,
To bad the kids only rise early that morn.
Juicy toys to test, seductive clothes to wear,
If you can pry hubby’s nose from his porn.

But remember this, if on Christmas Eve,
Your bed partner enters wiping her chin?
Texas is heterosexual, an old fashioned dude,
He may have just unloaded again.