‘Twas the night before Columbus Day, when all through the barn now,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Milk Cow;
The milking bucket was hung by the hay bales with care,
In hopes that those gambling hooligans from DeKoven Street were no longer there;
The O’Learys were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Bessie in her ’COWchief, and I in my top hat,
Had just settled our brains for a long harvest nap.
When out in the barn there arose such a clatter,
I VAULTED from the bed with my peg, 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 door of the faded red barn,
revealed something quite odd that would give me alarm,
When, what to my two bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and SEVEN 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, Bessie and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”