She traded her Stetson for a shiny gold crown,
fur on the collar of a red velvet gown,

And boots on her feet for delicate shoes,
a house on the hill with nothing to lose.

From gal of the ranch—to queen on the hill,
reliving the life of the real “Diamond Lil.”

She celebrates Christmas with a gala event
making sure folks all know money she’s spent.

The tree’s decorated with the finest of lights,
and servants are hustling most of the night.

Her house is aglow to show where they are
like that star leading shepherds to Jesus afar.

The music, the dancing, the drinks that will flow,
the parking attendants showing folks where to go.

Yes, the city will turn out to laugh and to dine,
and let the new queen show them all a good time.

But I wonder when lights dim, and she’s left alone,
will she think of the Christmas’ she had back home?

Will she remember the cowboy who once loved her so,
and the kisses we shared standing ‘neath mistletoe,

The long rides together in the light of the moon
when I took out my guitar and sang her a tune,

Or plans that we made to stay on the ranch
if she had it to do over, would she take that chance?

Would she stay on the prairie with me here below,
or choose once again to seek money, and show?

Would she marry the rich man whose life is his gold,
leave this man who dreamed with her he’d grow old?

I wonder each year as we reach Christmas Day,
if she ever regrets the price that she’s paid?

Does she find comfort in the things of this world,
or would she trade it all now to be just a cowgirl?

Tamara Hillman
©2010