'Twas the Night Before Christmas!

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the shack
Every creature was stirring, even me – Jack.
Burlap sacks were hung by the chimney with care,
But with small hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The monsters were nestled all snug in their sheds,
While visions of roast reindeer danced in their heads.
And Ma in her face mask and I in my flask
Had just settled our bones for a long winter’s snack.
When out on the lake there arose such a splatter,
I sprang away from the table to see what was the matter.
Away through the window I flew with a crash,
Smack through the shutters (right after the sash).
The moon shining on yesterday’s snow
Gave a luster of slush to objects below.
But what to my bloodshot eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh and eight small, soaked reindeer
With a bedraggled driver so lively and quick,
I thought for a sec – yes… it must be St. Nick.
So rapid (and noisy) the reindeer they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them all names:
“Now dash it! Oh darn it! Oh please, oh you Vixen!
Oh come on, don’t be stupid, darn you Blitzen!
Out of the lake and fly to the stall –
But don’t you dare crash into that stony old wall!”
As wet leaves that before the wild hurricane try
To emulate dry leaves in a race for the sky,
So up to the rooftop his reindeer they flew,
With a sleigh full of water – and St. Nicholas, too.
Then (with a snicker) I heard on the roof
A crashing and clawing and a strange sounding “Ooof”!
As I climbed through the window and was turning around,
Through the roof St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in splinters from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all sopping with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys fell down at his back,
And he looked like a robber who got caught with his sack.
His eyes, how he blinked them! His dimples, how dreary!
His cheeks blushed like roses, his nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn down like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as slushed as the snow.
The stump of a pipe was all that was left in his teeth,
And the dust from the roof settled round his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a round sinking belly
That shook as he puffed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was grubby and plump, a frustrated old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
He heaved a great sigh and tilted his head
And his rather grim smile said I’d something to dread.
He spoke not a word, but his mouth – did it work! –
Filled all of the sack; then turned with a jerk
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
With a swift nod, through the hole in the roof he rose.
He helped up his sleigh, to his team gave a stern look,
And away they all staggered, on legs that still shook.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he got out of sight:
“What a Christmas! I’ve never had such a night!”

(this was written by me way back in 1985)