November and December

I ain't much good at prayin', and You may not know me, Lord -
I ain't much seen in churches where they preach They Holy Word
But You may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
A-lookin' after cattle, feelin' thankful when it rains,
Admirin' Thy great handiwork, the miracle of grass,
Aware of Thy kind spirit in the way it comes to pass
That hired men on horseback and the livestock that we tend
Can look up at the stars at night and know we've got a Friend.

So here's ol' Christmas comin' on, remindin' us again
Of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of men.
A cowboy ain't no preacher, Lord, but if You'll hear my prayer,
I'll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere,
Don't let no hearts be bitter, Lord; don't let no child be cold.
Make easy beds for them that's sick , and them that's weak and old.
Let Kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we're after,
And sorter keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.

I've seen old cows a-starvin', and it ain't no happy sight;
Please don't leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy good Christmas night - 
No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet -
I'll aim to do my best to help You find 'em chuck to eat.

I'm just a sinful cowpoke, Lord, - ain't go no business prayin' -
But still I hope You'll ketch a word or two of what I'm sayin':
We speak of Merry Cristmas, Lord - I reckon You'll agree
There ain't no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain't free.
So one thing more I'll ask You, Lord: just help us what You can
To save some seed of freedom for the future sons of man!

The legend of St Nikolaus is based on the life of a bishop, 
who lived in the year 400 in Myra, South-east Asia.

There are documents that prove, that he was already
 honored in the year 1000 in Germany, which makes 
him one of the oldest documented Christmas personalities.

He was the patron of businessmen, bakers, sailors and later 
students, who celebrated his day on December 6th.

Since the 17th century one can find documentation of Nikolaus
 being dressed as an bishop with beard. Appearing in houses
 on the night before the 6th Dec., he asks children if they were 
good or bad and then rewards the good ones with goodies and 
punishes the bad ones with switches. 

Over the years custom changed and parents often give 
switches filled with candy. Children have to polish their boots
 or shoes and leave them in front of their doors. Next morning 
they will find their goodies in them. Part of the custom comes
 from the legend, that once Nikolaus threw three clumps of
 gold into the window of three girls who couldn't get married
 because they did not have a dowry. A lot of people give 
polished red apples in memory of the gold.

In parts of Germany Nikolaus comes in person, hired by parents
. He reads from a little gold or black book about how good or bad
 the children were and makes them recite a prayer,  x-mas poem
 or sing a x-mas song. In other parts of Germany Nikolaus
 is accompanied by "Knecht Ruprecht", a scary looking helper - 
who threatens to take the bad children with him in his sack. 
Of course he never does, but it can be very frightening to children
 and they don't like him at all.

Nikolaus is the most fun when he does his good deeds in secrecy, 
in the middle of the night. I think he is the german version of 
Santa Claus - or really, Santa Claus is the modern version of 
Nikolaus. 

(to the tune of "Winter Wonderland")

Doorbell rings, I'm not list'nin',
From my mouth, drool is glist'nin',
I'm happy--although
My boss let me go--
Happily addicted to the Web.

All night long, I sit clicking,
Unaware time is ticking,
There's beard on my cheek,
Same clothes for a week,
Happily addicted to the Web.

Friends come by; they shake me,
Saying, "Yo, man!
Don't you know tonight's the senior prom?"
With a listless shrug, I mutter, "No, man;
I just discovered letterman-dot-com!"

I don't phone, don't send faxes,
Don't go out, don't pay taxes,
Who cares if someday
They drag me away?
I'm happily addicted to the Web!

This holy night in open forum
Miss McIntosh, who handles Files,
Has lost one shoe and her decorum.
Stately, the frozen chairman smiles.

On Media, desperately vocal.
Credit, though they have lost their hopes
Of edging toward an early Local,
Finger their bonus envelopes.

The glassy boys, the bursting girls
Of Copy, start a Conga clatter
To a swung carol. Limply curls
The final sandwich on the platter

Till hark! a herald Messenger
(Room 414) lifts loudly up
His quavering tenor. Salesmen stir
Libation for his Lily cup.

"Noel," he pipes, "Noel, Noel."
Some wag beats tempo with a ruler.
And the plump blonde from Personnel
Is sick behind the water cooler.

S T O P ! !

Thank you :)