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And now, to celebrate the holiday season, two-time Emmy winner, and our beloved Mr. Feeney, William Daniels, reading The Night Before Christmas.

Merry Christmas, when 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 head. And Mama in her kerchief and me in my

camp 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.

Away 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 St. Nick. More rapid than eagles, his courses 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 Donder and Blitzen.

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

now dash away, dash away, dash away all.

As leaves that before the hurricane fly,

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

So up to the housetop, the courses they flew with a slave full of toys,

and St. Nickerdus too.

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