The T'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,

in hopes that St. Nicola soon would be there.

The children were nestled or snug in their beds,

while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.

And Mama in her kerchief, and I 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 the 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 the lustre of midday to objects below.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer?

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick. More rapid than eagles his curses 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, 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 housetop the courses they flew, with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pouring of each little hoof,

as I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with abound.

...