As hot cedar embers before the wild northers fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the hill tops St. Nick and I flew,
With the tiny dually full of toys and gee-gaws too.

And, then in a twinkling, he landed on a roof,
With me hopin’ it wasn’t no goof.
As I stomped on the brake and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nick went with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his duds were all messed with caliche and soot.

In ‘n out, he was back in a flash,
And we skipped o’er the Blanco ker-spash.
Now that we’d made it over like a ferry.