'Twas the Night Before

Happy holiday! We're down at the Christmas tree anyway, Sis. Say, aren't you children asleep yet? Daddy, you're doing business wonderful. Can't we stay up to see Santa Claus? Why, Santa Claus only comes when children are fast asleep.

Now, get into bed both of you and suppose I tell you a story. You know the one about the night before Christmas? Oh, please, do Daddy, Daddy, please! It was the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature of study, not even a mouth.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children would nestled or snug in their bed while visions of sugar blums dand to their heads and my mower in a curtain and I and my cap had just settled down through all windows now.

When out on the lawn there arose such a manner, I sprang from the fair to see what was the matter. Away to the wind, do I float like a flash, Tore open the goddess and chew on the sand.

The moon on the breast of the new hall and snow Gave the lustre of midday to objects to load. When what to my wandering eye 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 rapping than eagles, its courses, they came. He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now, Dasher, now Gansher, now Prancer and Dickson. Uncommit, un-cupid, un-dunder and blitzen. To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall. Now, Dasher way, and away, and away, all. The stomper of Taipei held tight in his teeth and he smoked it and circled his head like a wreath.