'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
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;
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
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,
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.
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
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