Twas the Night Before Christmas

Oh Goodness, I’m sitting in the driveway on keep Perry from getting run over patrol, but the sun is going away and my fingers are freezing!

I’ll see how long I can keep this up, here’s my idea for the Xmas Eve Blog:  (I cut/pasted the poem, so I”m having the requisite font issues, however, I’m frozen and have to go clean up for the family Christmas eve festivities…

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by Clement Clarke Moore
or Henry Livingston

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the houseNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

That’s because any mouse that enters the household will be swiftly and efficiently killed by Scully the dog. 

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

Including little ones with dog treats in them for the puppies

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

Not so sure about that one, more likely visions of Hersheys Bars, Starburst, Zingers and Hostess Cupcakes

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,

This mamma wouldn’t be caught dead in a ‘kerchief and no one sleeps in a cap.  Furthermore, I haven’t had a long winter’s nap since the kids have been born.

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

A robber, thief, murderer or worse, Sara Palin with some folksy verse.

(cheesy, I know, but Christmas is all about the cheesy)

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

Breast?  I don’t remember that part…

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

The reindeer appeared healthy, in good flesh and parasite free.  They were recently tested for Brucellosis and cleared for interstate travel by the Feds.

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, Donder and Blitzen!

Clearly, this was the pre-Rudolph days…

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.

No signs of lameness or discomfort. 

As I drew in my hand, 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,

I bet the PETA people love that one…

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;

Ooooh, a smoking Santa!  What about the children!

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,

This poem is fraught with politically incorrect and potentially offensive material, I can’t believe this ever made it past the censors…

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.”
“Ditto”

   

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