This is the Christmas Poem Clement Clarke Moore MIGHT have written had he been alive today and had he owned a Protege.
'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;
Our son was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of video games danced in his head;
My wife in her nightie, and ready to sleep tight,
Had just settled down for a long winter's night,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
A faulty rod bearing I thought 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
Like Osram Silverstars lit the objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But eight shiny Proteges dropping down to 1st gear,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he was driving a stick.
More rapid than eagles his Proteges came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, DX! now, LX! now, ES! you're grooving!
On, 1st gen! on, 2nd gen! on, 3rd gen! keep moving!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now drift away! drift away! drift 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 Proteges flew
With trunks full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the spire
The squealing and sliding of each winter tire.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed in red Nomex 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 P5, to his team gave a shout,
With a thunderous roar I could hear them peel out.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy christmas to all, and to all a good night."
'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;
Our son was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of video games danced in his head;
My wife in her nightie, and ready to sleep tight,
Had just settled down for a long winter's night,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
A faulty rod bearing I thought 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
Like Osram Silverstars lit the objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But eight shiny Proteges dropping down to 1st gear,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he was driving a stick.
More rapid than eagles his Proteges came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, DX! now, LX! now, ES! you're grooving!
On, 1st gen! on, 2nd gen! on, 3rd gen! keep moving!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now drift away! drift away! drift 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 Proteges flew
With trunks full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the spire
The squealing and sliding of each winter tire.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed in red Nomex 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 P5, to his team gave a shout,
With a thunderous roar I could hear them peel out.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy christmas to all, and to all a good night."
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