Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the grasses
The cows were up dancing, and shaking their asses.
They galloped in circles, moos rang through the air
In hopes that cow Santa soon would be there.

The farmer was tucked up all snug in her bed,
Dreams of long distance travel danced in her head;
She had just put up her feet for a short summer nap.
No need for red bands or her trusty shed cap.

The drench guns were hung in the woolshed with care,
The dogs in their kennels, sensing something was near.
When out on the farm there came such a sound,
It must be the great sleigh about to touch down.

In the midst of their dancing, the cow party paused
Knowing they might soon see their Cow Claus.
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But eight perfectly socially distanced reindeer.

With a sigh of relief, they threw off their masks,
Happy to touch down in New Zealand at last.
“Now Sparkles! Now Twinkles, now Glitter and Fred!
Do you think you can manage to land this old sled?”

With relief the deer descended from flight
And stayed with the cows for the rest of the night.
The moo-sic was loud, and the partiers footloose
Some may have drunk too much silage juice.

The cows slowly woke as night turned to day
And found that the deer had all flown away.
As they chewed on their cud, they traded their stories
And the herd re-lived their Christmas Eve glory.