Was the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care and hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.

And mama and her kerchief and eye in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

To properly fit in on the dangle cast I did not shower or otherwise groom myself in preparation for this.

From out on the lawn there arose such a clatter.

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash to open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below.

Merry Christmas!

When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature slay and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment it must be a nick.

More rapid than eagles his courses they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now dasha now dancer now prince are in vixen on comet on cupid on daughter and blitzen.

All to the top of the porch to the top of the wall.

Now dash away dash away dash away as dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly

when they meet with an obstacle now to the sky.

So up to the house top the courses they flew with a slave of toys and St. Nicholas too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and piling of each little hoose.

As I drew in my hand and was turning around down the chimney St. Nicholas came with the bound.

He was dressed in all fur from his head to his foot and his clothes were all tarnished

with ashes and soot.

...