Susan K. Rowse - Dixie Christmas lyrics

Twas the eve down in Georgia...magnolias complete When the cadence of reindeer with padded hoof beats Came trodding over steeples brushing the spires To harken old hearts and put out old fires Replenish the joys of rebels with souls Restore faith for kids with wishes to hold There was double wide homes with metal roofs Plantations so old with their history aloof The homes on the marshes with piers out to heck Then those of the cabins with red wooden decks All for the hoofbeats so sturdy this year To hold the big Redman and his redneck reindeer He came all a' laden with dump trucks and go-carts The kind with a horn and a zillion small parts New reel for Big Daddy and the George Forman fryer Tammy Fay lashes and the Ronco hair dryers Its pleasures for "the Woman" like a new set of nails Its waxes for surfboards and new canvas sails The bogging machines with motors of thunder Koalas for newbies from the land way down under Its jasmine and cranberries, pumpkin and egg nog Its helmets "shoot fire" for that old Harley Hog Hoofbeats a ring'n with bells all a jolly Then yelps from the thorns in bu*ts from the holly Santa so red faced and all full of cheer His six-pack of Miller with his red neck reindeer They sputter like dirt bikes...get caught up in jasmine Get dirty from low country but oh!...how they shine! They ride low sometimes to cover more ground And most of the time they don't make a sound Big Bubba Santa...a chaw in each cheek Eight reindeer balking for more pay this week My kind of Christmas sans social elite "Junior" the elf...well he just can't be beat His gig is this Christmas with little pay He subs on off-season on St. Patrick's Day He's knee high and green with ears out to here He chews and he races at Darlington this year He's proud and like Santa, ain't no other like it Christmas in Dixie sleighing or bike 'n Us folks down south...well...we're all just rotten Know what they say? We're step'n in High Cotton That means for you yakees of Northern Agression You listen on up...we have a confession Christmas in Dixie ain't Broadway in lights Its down home cook'n and families "real tight" Its warmth that is different and tradition on labels Like Chatham Artillary Punch for our table Like re-enactments at forts and mist from the canons Like hoop skirted ladies...banana curls dangling The men all dressed out in contradicted norm Those all in gray in their Reb uniforms Its pride in the south there ain't nothing like it Santa...well he's decked all out in his redneck outfit. You guys up north...You're the last ones to know Santas a rebel and he don't like the snow His preference is eating with folks full of cheer He's one of us and so is his deer We share him each time this season comes round He likes his direction all southern bound We loan him to you guys and after all Its just his job...Merry Christmas you all !