While hanging the stockings with mucho cuidado, In hopes that old Santa would feel obligado, To bring all children, both buenos and malos, A nice batch of dulces and other regalos.
Outside in the yard there arose un gran grito, and I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito. I ran to the window and looked out afuera, And who in the world do you think that it era?
Saint Nick in a sleigh and a big red sombrero,
Came dashing along like a loco bombero.
And pulling his sleigh instead of venados, Were eight little burros approaching volando.
I watched as they came and this quaint little hombre, Was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre: “Ay Pancho, ay Pepe, ay Cuco, ay Beto, ay Chato, ay Chopo, Maruco, y Nieto!”
Then standing erect with his hands on his pecho, He flew to the top of our very own techo, With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea, He struggled to squeeze down our old chimenea.
Then huffing and puffing at last in our sala, With soot smeared all over his red suit de gala, He filled all the stockings with lively regalos, None for the niños that had been very malos.
Then chuckling aloud, seeming very contento, He turned like a flash and was gone como el viento, And I heard him exclaim, y ¡esto es verdad! Merry Christmas to all, ¡y Feliz Navidad!
Editor’s note: Nobody seems to know for sure who wrote this Spanglish version of the poem.
We’ve re-printed it a few times over the years, and still find it amusing.