Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the shop
not a creature was stirring, not even a mop.
The stockings were hung by the front display with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The piercers were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of gold jewlery danced in their heads.
And Mama with her coffee, and I with my frapp,
had just settled our bums for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a rockin’ sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a punk rock driver, so lively and spunk,
I knew that moment it must be… St. Nick.
More rapid than flying eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of presents he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes–how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose red like a cherry!
His little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the lumberjack beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of spaghetti.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the cabinets, shiny and quick.
He gave everyone presents and said “What a year!”
“Good job shop, it’s my favorite”, with a tear!
One more time he said, “Be good.”
He gave me a nod and I understood
then laying his finger aside of his twinkling pierced nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, and let out a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
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