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.



And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.



When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my 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 eye should appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.