We moved to Texas this summer! Boy howdy, these Texans are proud of their state. Texas has infected our Christmas traditions. Our mantle is decorated with multi-colored shotgun shell lights, our bronze ï¿½Bronco Busterï¿½ statue is wearing a Santa Claus hat, and the only reason we arenï¿½t hanging ornaments on an evergreen Christmas cactus is because they sold the last one before we could snatch it up.
I was thinking, what if Jesus was born in Bethlehem, Texas? The story might sound a bit like this:
ï¿½Cause Joe was kin to the Great-grandpappy David, he and Mary Sue, who was preggers at the time, had to saddle up ï¿½Ole Blueï¿½ and head down south to Bethlehem. They were fixinï¿½ ta pass a nuther ï¿½No Vacancyï¿½ sign on the last Holiday Inn when a crusty galoot from the next-door ï¿½Stable-Jï¿½ ranch hollered at ï¿½em, ï¿½Howdy! You kiddoes look pertnear wore out. Iï¿½m afeered a blue norther might be cominï¿½ up here dreckly. I got an olï¿½ barn just up the road a piece if you need a place to kick your boots off. That little lady of yours awlready looks plumb tukkerdowt.ï¿½
The two lovebirds made it into the barn just in time for the young-un to be borned. Because he was nekkid as a jay-bird, Mary Sue wrapped him up good in a feed sack and laid him in ï¿½Daisy Maeï¿½sï¿½ feed trough full of hay.
Just across the bob wahr fence there were cowboys in the pasture rustlinï¿½ up their cattle. That eveninï¿½ it was blacker than midnight under a skillet until somebody cutï¿½awn a light in the sky that was shininï¿½ hotter than a front porch bub. Right then a big oï¿½ angel showed up saying, ï¿½Donï¿½t go gittin skeered, now, yaï¿½ hear. I got some larrupin good news! Jesus Christ, Godï¿½s boy his self, has been borned tonight just outside olï¿½ man Lukeï¿½s place.
All a sudden a hobunch of angels showed up. They were singinï¿½ and daintsinï¿½ and praisinï¿½ Gawd Almighty! The ranch hands looked at each other and said, ï¿½Cï¿½mone, letï¿½s ride into town as quick as a hicuup tï¿½ see what all the fuss is about. So they lit out all the faster as they could git to Bethlehem.
When they strode up they caught sight of the pertiest little baby theyï¿½d ever laid eyes on. They rambled on and on to Mary Sue and everbody about what all the angels ï¿½ouchonderï¿½ in the fields told them. Half the town thought the boys werenï¿½t playing with a full deck but Mary Sue believed their tale. She tucked it deep inside and whispered a prayer for them, ï¿½God bless their little hearts.ï¿½ And He did. They headed back to the ranch and ever chance they get, they sit ï¿½round the campfire, take a swaller out of their cup of hot Arbuckle, and tell their favoritest Holy Ghost story.
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