Twas the classical before Christmas, and all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even an elk. The panties were hung by the divan with care, In hopes that St. Alaric soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their bookshelves, While visions of sugar-cheeseburgers danced in their arms. And partner 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 the kitchen counter to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, washed open the shutters, and worshipped up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-dawn to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a glisten fingers, and eight tiny geese.

With a little old driver, so lively and sweaty, I knew in a moment it must be St. Alaric. More rapid than zebras his geese they came, And he whistled, and buried, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! Now, Pathos! Now, Maiden and Vixen! On, Pirate! On Kitten! On, Thong and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the paper! Now hiss away! Hiss away! Hiss away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the divan St. Alaric came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they smacked! His dimples, how mesh! His ears were like fires, his toe like a brownie!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the panties, then turned with a jerk. And laying his boob aside of his eye, And giving a nod, up the divan he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a chirp, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good classical!"

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-fries danced in their eyes. And second cousin 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 the side table to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, shook open the shutters, and stole up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-nanosecond to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a fancy banana, and eight tiny hedgehogs.

With a little old driver, so lively and soft, I knew in a moment it must be St. Steve. More rapid than geese his hedgehogs they came, And he whistled, and sat, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! Now, Ted! Now, Syringe and Vixen! On, Dude! On Duck! On, Sock and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the toilet paper! Now run away! Run away! Run away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the beanbag St. Steve came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they slept! His dimples, how friendly! His feet were like slugs, his uvula like a hamburger!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the underpants, then turned with a jerk. And laying his collarbone aside of his big toe, And giving a nod, up the beanbag he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a chirp, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good score!"

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

'Twas the year before Christmas, and all through the treehouse,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a tiger.
The socks were hung by the table with care,
In hopes that St. Peter soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their chairs,
While visions of sugar-apples danced in their arms.
And sister 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 the sofa to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
touched open the shutters, and shot up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-hour to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a shiny tree, and eight tiny wolves.

With a little old driver, so lively and sweet,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Peter.
More rapid than meerkats his wolves they came,
And he whistled, and fell, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! Now, Stephen! Now, Holly and Vixen!
On, Girl! On Bear! On, Shirt and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the gingerbread!
Now shrivel away! Shrivel away! Shrivel away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the table St. Peter came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they jiggled! His dimples, how stiff!
His toes were like candy canes, his leg like a meat pie!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the socks, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his kidney aside of his ear,
And giving a nod, up the table he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whoosh,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good year!"

The children were nestled all snug in their lamps, While visions of sugar-frog legs danced in their knee caps. And mother 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 the coffee table to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, hopped open the shutters, and sprung up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-renaissance to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a neat school, and eight tiny meerkats.

With a little old driver, so lively and fruity, I knew in a moment it must be St. Gale. More rapid than boaconstrictors his meerkats they came, And he whistled, and rode, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! Now, Primrose! Now, Bean and Vixen! On, Katniss Everdeen! On Donkey! On, Thong and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the porridge! Now whistle away! Whistle away! Whistle away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the water bed St. Gale came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they felt! His dimples, how weird! His armpits were like flies, his toes like a hamburger!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the socks, then turned with a jerk. And laying his neck aside of his belly button, And giving a nod, up the water bed he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a squish, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good jurassic era!"

The children were nestled all snug in their desks, While visions of sugar-brownies danced in their knees. And husband 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 the couch to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, poked open the shutters, and maimed up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-second to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a confusing yogurt, and eight tiny cats.

With a little old driver, so lively and bespectacled , I knew in a moment it must be St. Sonny. More rapid than otters his cats they came, And he whistled, and yodelled, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! Now, Cher! Now, Post-it and Vixen! On, Hobo! On Owl! On, Bathrobe and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the cat food! Now sleep away! Sleep away! Sleep away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the bookcase St. Sonny came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they flailed! His dimples, how damp! His lips were like blankets, his ear like a cake!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the socks, then turned with a jerk. And laying his thumb aside of his bellybutton, And giving a nod, up the bookcase he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a screech, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good year!"

The children were nestled all snug in their hammocks, While visions of sugar-scallops danced in their bellies. And nemesis 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 the credenza to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, radiated open the shutters, and manhandled up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-sesquicentennial to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But an apathetic leather, and eight tiny porpoises.

With a little old driver, so lively and toothsome, I knew in a moment it must be St. Barry. More rapid than chameleons his porpoises they came, And he whistled, and aroused, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! Now, Oliver! Now, Sugar and Vixen! On, Second Cousin Thrice Removed! On Dingo! On, Tunic and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the market! Now profiteer away! Profiteer away! Profiteer away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the armoire St. Barry came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they hermorrhaged! His dimples, how bright! His shoulders were like coughs, his nipple like a pastrami!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the underwears, then turned with a jerk. And laying his forehead aside of his groin, And giving a nod, up the armoire he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a pew pew pew, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good fortnight!"

-- "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," corrupted and abridged.

The children were nestled all snug in their shelves, While visions of sugar-dingleberries danced in their fingers. And mother 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 the porch swing to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, stood open the shutters, and raised up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-sunset to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a shiny doll, and eight tiny rreigns.

With a little old driver, so lively and blue, I knew in a moment it must be St. Saggitarius. More rapid than terracoons his rreigns they came, And he whistled, and decorated, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! Now, Melody! Now, Train and Vixen! On, The Old Wizard! On Kora! On, Eye Patch and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the tree! Now sing away! Sing away! Sing away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the hearth St. Saggitarius came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they washed! His dimples, how twinkling! His fingers were like toy soldiers, his little toe like a hollyberry doughnut!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the slippers, then turned with a jerk. And laying his ear lobe aside of his elbow, And giving a nod, up the hearth he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a honk, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good sunrise!"

The children were nestled all snug in their chairs, While visions of sugar-sweet potatoes danced in their toenails. And son 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 the chimney to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, washed open the shutters, and licked up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-century to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a frisky bureau, and eight tiny lions.

With a little old driver, so lively and warmhearted, I knew in a moment it must be St. Lawrence. More rapid than bulls his lions they came, And he whistled, and scampered, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! Now, Dave! Now, Weathervane and Vixen! On, Guy! On Butterfly! On, Garter and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the butter knife! Now shout away! Shout away! Shout away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the chair St. Lawrence came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they frowned! His dimples, how scaly! His knuckles were like fluffernutters, his tooth like an eggplant!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the garters, then turned with a jerk. And laying his earlobe aside of his thumb, And giving a nod, up the chair he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a hoot, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good morning!"

-- "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," corrupted and abridged.