Twas The Night Before Christmas

by Sarantos

Twas The Night Before Christmas

Twas The Night Before Christmas

Twas The Night Before Christmas

By Clement Clarke Moore

Twas 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 Nicholas 
soon would be there.

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

And mamma 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 mid-day 
to objects below.

When, what to my 
wondering eyes should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh, 
and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment 
it must be St 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, 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 house-top 
the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, 
and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, 
I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing 
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, 
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. 

A bundle of Toys 
he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, 
just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! 
his dimples how merry! 
His cheeks were like roses, 
his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth 
was drawn up like a bow, 
And the beard of his chin 
was as white as the 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 laughed, 
like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, 
a right jolly old elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! 

A wink of his eye 
and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know 
I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, 
but went straight to his work, 
And filled all the stockings, 
then turned with a jerk. 

And laying his finger 
aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, 
up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, 
to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew 
like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, 
‘ere he drove out of sight, 
"Happy Christmas to all, 
and to all a good-night!"

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