Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung near the tree with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The brown dawgs were nestled all snug in their bed,
While visions of antler bones danced in their heads.
Storm in her ‘kerchief, Thunder and Freighter in their caps,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window they 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 luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
Forget the rest…
Hope St. Nick brings us something good!
