Narration

It is the night before Christmas and everything is quiet. Stockings are hung, children are sleeping, and I am about to take a nap. Suddenly, I hear a noise outside and see Santa Claus on his sleigh with his reindeer. He delivers toys and fills stockings. Santa is described as jolly and his appearance is detailed. After his work is done, he leaves with a message of Merry Christmas. T'was 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, that's me, soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads, and Mama in her kerchief, 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 my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters, threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave a luster of midday 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 corsairs they came, and he whistled and he shouted and he 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 before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the rooftop the corsairs they flew with sleigh full of toys, well 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 the 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 was like a cherry. His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 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 bowl full 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 and turned with a jerk, and laying his finger aside 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 as he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.