| 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
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| Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
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| The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
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| In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there
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| The children were nestled, all snug in their beds
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| While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads
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| And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap
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| Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap
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| When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
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| I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter
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| Away to the window I flew like a flash
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| Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash
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| The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
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| Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below
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| When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
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| But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer
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| With a little old driver, so lively and quick
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| I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick
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| More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
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| And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name
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| «Now, Dasher! |
| now, Dancer! |
| now, Prancer and Vixen!
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| On, Comet! |
| on Cupid! |
| on, Donner and Blitzen!
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| To the top of the porch! |
| to the top of the wall!
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| Now dash away! |
| dash away! |
| dash away all!»
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| As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
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| When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
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| So up to the house-top the coursers they flew
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| With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too
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| And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
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| The prancing and pawing of each little hoof
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| As I drew in my hand, and was turning around
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| Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound
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| He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot
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| And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot
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| A bundle of toys he had flung on his back
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| And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack
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| His eyes, how they twinkled! |
| his dimples, how merry!
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| His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
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| His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
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| And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow
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| The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth
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| And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath
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| He had a broad face and a little round belly
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| That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly
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| He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf
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| And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself
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| A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
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| Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread
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| He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
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| And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk
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| And laying his finger aside of his nose
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| And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose
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| He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle
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| And away they all flew like the down of a thistle
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| But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight
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| «Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night» |