| '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 | 
| The children were nestled, all snug in their beds | 
| While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads | 
| And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap | 
| Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap | 
| When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter | 
| I sprang from the 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 eyes should appear | 
| But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer | 
| With a little old driver, so lively and quick | 
| I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick | 
| More rapid than eagles his coursers they came | 
| And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name | 
| «Now, Dasher! | 
| now, Dancer! | 
| now, Prancer and Vixen! | 
| On, Comet! | 
| on Cupid! | 
| on, Donner and Blitzen! | 
| To the top of the porch! | 
| to the top of the wall! | 
| Now dash away! | 
| dash away! | 
| dash away all!» | 
| As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly | 
| When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky | 
| So up to the house-top the coursers they flew | 
| With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too | 
| 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 chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound | 
| He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot | 
| And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot | 
| A bundle of toys he had flung on his back | 
| And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack | 
| His eyes, how they twinkled! | 
| his dimples, how merry! | 
| His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! | 
| His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow | 
| And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow | 
| The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth | 
| And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath | 
| He had a broad face and a little round belly | 
| That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly | 
| He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf | 
| And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself | 
| 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 filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk | 
| And laying his finger aside of his nose | 
| And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose | 
| He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle | 
| And away they all flew like the down of a thistle | 
| But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight | 
| «Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night» |