Poetry: A Visit From St. Nicholas By Clement Clarke Moore

Image © Unknown via iStock

Here is a classic Christmas poem better known as “Twas the Night Before Christmas. 

A Visit From St. Nicholas

Image © of CrazyPhunk via Wikipedia and is in the public domain

St. Nicholas.

‘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 would soon 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 my 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 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 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 up 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 pedlar 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 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; 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!
 
By Clement Clarke Moore.

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Notes And Links

The image at the top of the page is from unknown via iStock.

The image above of Saint Nicholas is the copyright of Wikipedia user CrazyPhunk.  It comes with a Creative Commons licence (CC BY-SA 3.0).

Poetry: A Harley Davidson Christmas Poem By Unknown

Image © unknown via iStock

Here’s a Christmas poem that made me smile.  It is a parody of A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore.

In case you didn’t know fanny means something completely different in America, it means a person’s bottom so Father Christmas isn’t a pervert, ha ha. 

Image © Unknown via Giggle Palooza

Father Christmas On A Harley Davidson.

A Harley Davidson Christmas Poem 

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad,
There was nada happenin’, now that’s pretty bad.
 
The woodstove was hung up in that stocking routine,
In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.
 
With our stomachs packed with tacos and beer,
My girl and I crashed on the couch for some cheer.
 
When out in the yard there arose such a racket,
I ran for the door and pulled on my jacket.
 
I saw a large bro’ on a ’56 Pan
Wearin’ black leathers, a cap, and boots (cool biker, man).
 
He hauled up the bars on that bike full of sacks,
And that Pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks. 
 
I couldn’t help gawking, the old guy had class.
But I had to go in, I was freezing my ass.
 
Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash,
And out of the stove, he came dragging his stash.
 
With a smile and some glee he passed out the loot,
A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.
 
He patted her fanny and shook my right hand,
Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe, he ran.
 
From up on the roof came a great deal of thunder,
As that massive V-twin ripped the silence asunder.
 
With beard in the wind, he roared off in the night,
Shouting, “Have a cool Yule, and to all a good ride!
 
By Unknown.

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Notes And Links

The image at the top of the page is from unknown and is via iStock.

The image of Father Christmas on a Harley Davidson and the poem above are from unknown people but were sourced from Giggle Palooza.

Read about Harley-Davidson here.