T'was
the night before ,
when all
through the house
Not a creature
was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings
were still stored with care,
In hopes
that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The parents
& children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions
of presents danced in their heads;
And mamma
in her Victoria Secret,
and He
only in his cap,
Had just
settled down for a long autumn's nap,
When out
on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They
sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to
the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open
the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon
on the breast of the new-fallen leaves
Gave the
lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what
to their wondering eyes should appear,
But an
empty miniature sleigh, and eight sad reindeer,
With a little
old driver, so thin and lookin' like a stick,
They thought
. . . . . can this be St. Nick. he looked sick
Slower
than molasses his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, John!
now, Angie! now, Brian and Patti!
On,
Chris! on Jennie! on, Andy and Kacie!
To
your desk, get your pad & pen, don't stall!
Or I will.
. . 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 sky did the coursers fly,
With the
sleigh devoid of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then,
in a twinkling, they heard on the roof
The forlorn
dragging of each little hoof.
As
while they were preparing to write,
there came
a sound,
Down
the chimney St. Nicholas
came with
a bound.
He was dressed
all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his
clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
An empty
bundle he had flung on his back,
And he
looked like a pauper just opening his pack.
His eyes
-- not a twinkle!
His dimples
how they drooped!
His cheeks
were now gaunt,
"What's
with you poops?!?!?!!
His droll
little mouth was drawn up
like he
had just gotten a blow,
And
his face was as pale as week old 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 cried like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby
and plump, a sad rolly old elf,
And
they shuttered when they saw him, for they knew
A drop
in his eye and a tilt of his head,
Soon gave
them to know they had something to dread;
He spoke
not a word, for he had no work,
He
could not fill the stockings; he said, What "jerks",
"Where's
your list????"
And laying
his finger aside of his nose,
And
giving a nod, up the chimney slowly he rose;
He
sadly climbed into his sleigh,
to his
team gave a little whistle,
And
away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But they
heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS
TO ALL
. . . maybe next year . . . . . ,
AND TO ALL
A GOOD-NIGHT