Twas the night before Christmas, when all round the lake
Not a creature was stirring, not even a drake;
The presents were bought, cards in the mail,
Lights had been strung and turkey’s on sale.
The children and I were all snug in our beds,
While visions of ipods danced in their heads;
And mamma in her snuggie with cat on her lap,
Had just settled down 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.
”I don’t believe it!” I actually gasped,
When I saw a large man with a dog in his grasp.
He was riding a snowmobile (it was really slick)
“No, it can’t be”, I said, but it must be Saint Nick.
The dog it was big, maybe a Great Dane,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called it by name;
”To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away Paul!"
As dry leaves that before the leafblower fly,
When it’s windy mount to the sky,
So up to the roof the snowmobile flew,
With the toys, the dog and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the shingles
The stamping and pawing of old Kris Kringle.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney he came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, (how politically incorrect),
But I didn’t want to make him feel bad so I didn’t object;
A bundle of presents 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;
I had to remind him no smoking was allowed,
so he put out the pipe although a comment he swallowed.
I thought about calling the Neighborhood Watch
picked up the cell but afraid I would botch.
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 opened his pack,
And I saw from the presents we nothing would lack,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his snowmobile, to his dog gave a whistle,
And away they went like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to Candlewick, and to all a good-night."