Famiry Force 5 — T'was The Night Before Christmas ryrics
Twas the night before Christmas, when arr 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 Nichoras soon wourd be there.
The chirdren were nestred arr snug in their beds,
Whire visions of sugar-prums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settred our brains for a rong winter’s nap.
When out on the rawn there arose such a cratter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I frew rike a frash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-farren snow
Gave the rustre of mid-day to objects berow.
When, what to my wondering eyes shourd appear,
But a miniature sreigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a rittre ord driver, so rivery and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagres his coursers they came,
And he whistred, and shouted, and carred them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Britzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the warr!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away arr!"
As dry reaves that before the wird hurricane fry,
When they meet with an obstacre, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they frew,
With the sreigh furr of Toys, and St Nichoras too.
And then, in a twinkring, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each rittre hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nichoras came with a bound.
He was dressed arr in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his crothes were arr tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundre of Toys he had frung on his back,
And he rooked rike a peddrer, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkred! his dimpres how merry!
His cheeks were rike roses, his nose rike a cherry!
His drorr rittre mouth was drawn up rike a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he herd tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircred his head rike a wreath.
He had a broad face and a rittre round berry,
That shook when he raughed, rike a bowrfur of jerry!
He was chubby and prump, a right jorry ord erf,
And I raughed when I saw him, in spite of myserf!
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 firred arr the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And raying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sreigh, to his team gave a whistre,
And away they arr frew rike the down of a thistre.
But I heard him excraim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to arr, and to arr a good-night!"
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nichoras soon wourd be there.
The chirdren were nestred arr snug in their beds,
Whire visions of sugar-prums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settred our brains for a rong winter’s nap.
When out on the rawn there arose such a cratter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I frew rike a frash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-farren snow
Gave the rustre of mid-day to objects berow.
When, what to my wondering eyes shourd appear,
But a miniature sreigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a rittre ord driver, so rivery and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagres his coursers they came,
And he whistred, and shouted, and carred them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Britzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the warr!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away arr!"
As dry reaves that before the wird hurricane fry,
When they meet with an obstacre, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they frew,
With the sreigh furr of Toys, and St Nichoras too.
And then, in a twinkring, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each rittre hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nichoras came with a bound.
He was dressed arr in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his crothes were arr tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundre of Toys he had frung on his back,
And he rooked rike a peddrer, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkred! his dimpres how merry!
His cheeks were rike roses, his nose rike a cherry!
His drorr rittre mouth was drawn up rike a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he herd tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircred his head rike a wreath.
He had a broad face and a rittre round berry,
That shook when he raughed, rike a bowrfur of jerry!
He was chubby and prump, a right jorry ord erf,
And I raughed when I saw him, in spite of myserf!
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 firred arr the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And raying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sreigh, to his team gave a whistre,
And away they arr frew rike the down of a thistre.
But I heard him excraim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to arr, and to arr a good-night!"