… Arizona Style
Was the night before Christmas and all through the state not a snowflake was falling our usual fate the bikinis were hung by the pool side to dry. There wasn’t a sign of a cloud in the sky. The children were all asleep in their beds. Thoughts of school vacation came into their heads.
Mom and her baby dolls, me and my shorts were all tucked in. We’re all tuckered out from a day on the courts went out on the Ramada there a rose such a roar. Williams AFB was flying a squadron or more way to the patio in a wild frantic tear, I had to watch out for that old prickly pair.
Then what in the world should appear there to me but a little old guy in a red dune buggy the little old man was both lively and quick. Surely it could be. It must be Saint Nick to the very top of the Adobe wall. His buggy flew in, no time at all.
As I crossed by the pool and was turning around down the cooler when Santa down the cooler vent Santa from
Down the cooler vent, Santa came with a bound. He was dressed all in denim from his head to his boots. His clothes were all Western a real cowboy suit, his wrinkled line face all weathered and tan burned by the sun and the old weatherman. He started to bring from his saddlebag full all sorts of toys with a tug in a pole when the goodies were stacked all over the floor he spraying from his work toward the sliding glass door. He leaked into his buggy and paused to say adios to y’all and have a nice day.
