A Quilty Christmas!

With apologies to Clement Moore.......


'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,


Made by the quilter that resided in there;


The children were nestled all snug in their beds,


Covered in quilts right up to their heads;


Mamma made her 'kerchief, and also my cap,


We just settled down 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,


Jumped over some remnants and tripped on some stash.


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, Moda! now, Hoffman! now, Miller and Windham!


On, Northcott! on Clothworks! on, Marcus and Mumm!


To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!


Now stash away! stash away! stash away all!"


As small scraps 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 fabric, 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 Patchwork, from his head to his foot,


And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;


A bundle of scraps 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 seamripper he held tight in his teeth,


And the thread 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."