“Twas The Night Before Christmas” 🎅🎅🎅

[tarja]

Hi steemians. Merry Xmas🎅 to you even as a night is still remaining. Let's go with this 'poem'    credit 

'Twas the prior night Christmas, when all thro' the house, 

Not an animal was mixing, not even a mouse; 

The leggings were hung by the smokestack with mind, 

In expectations that St. Nicholas soon would be there; 

The kids were settled all cozy in their beds, 

While dreams of sugar plums danc'd in their heads, 

And Mama in her 'handkerchief, and I in my top, 

Had simply settled our brains for a long winter's rest 

When out on the yard there emerged such a rattle, 

I sprang from the bed to perceive what was the issue. 

Away to the window I flew like a blaze, 

Tore open the shades, and hurled the scarf. 

The moon on the bosom of the new fallen snow, 

Gave the gloss of early afternoon to objects beneath; 

When, what to my pondering eyes ought to show up, 

But a minature sleigh, and eight modest rein-deer, 

With a little old driver, so exuberant and snappy, 

I knew in a minute it must be St. Scratch. 

More fast than falcons his coursers they came, 

And he shrieked, and yelled, and call'd them by name: 

"Now! Dasher, now! Artist, now! Prancer, and Vixen, 

"On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and Blixem; 

"To the highest point of the yard! to the highest point of the divider!

"Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" 

As dry leaves previously the wild sea tempest fly, 

When they meet with an obstruction, mount to the sky; 

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 

With the sleigh brimming with Toys - and steemians here.

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the rooftop 

The skipping and pawing of every little foot. 

As I attracted my head, and was pivoting, 

Down the smokestack St. Nicholas accompanied a bound: 

He was dress'd all in hide, from his make a beeline for his foot, 

And his garments were all tarnish'd with slag and sediment; 

A heap of toys was flung on his back, 

And he look'd like a vendor simply opening his pack: 

His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how joyful, 

His cheeks resembled roses, his nose like a cherry; 

His comical little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 

And the facial hair of his button was as white as the snow; 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 

And the smoke it encompassed his head like a wreath. 

He had an expansive face, and a little round gut 

That shook when he laugh'd, similar to a bowl loaded with jam:

He was rotund and full, a correct cheerful old mythical being, 

And I laugh'd when I saw him regardless of myself; 

A wink of his eye and a spot of his head 

Soon offered me to know I had nothing to fear. 

He talked not a word, but rather went straight to his work, 

And fill'd every one of the tights; at that point turn'd with a twitch, 

And laying his finger aside of his nose 

And giving a gesture, up the smokestack he climbed. 

He sprung to his sleigh, to his group gave a shriek, 

And away they all flew, similar to the down of a thorn: 

But I heard him shout, ere he drove beyond anyone's ability to see- 

Happy Christmas to all, and to each of the steemians, ready to say goodbye 2017 with you.