Twas the night before Christmas went all through the house.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

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

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

And Mama in her kerchief, an eye in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Way to the window I flew like a flash.

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow

gave a luster of midday to objects below. When what to my wondering eyes did appear. But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer with a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be Saint Nick.

More rapid than 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 dawner and blitzin.

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall.

Now dash away, dash away, dash away, dash away all.

As leaves it before the wild hurricane fly,

when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew, with a slave full of toys and St. Nicholas, too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawling 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 fur from his head to his foot,

...