Why not print out this much loved poem and read it to the kids on Christmas Eve before they go to sleep. Written by Clement Clarke Moore back in 1822.
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, 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
head, 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!"
Article compiled by the team at Under 5s www.under5s.co.nz.
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