The Night Before Christmas

''Twas the Night Before Christmas' is one of the often-told, most popular of Christmas tales. It was originally titled 'An Account of a visit from St. Nicholas' and was written in 1822 in the form of a long Christmas poem by an Episcopal Minister named Clement Clarke Moore for his three young daughters. He thought it would amuse and entertain them, which it did, but somewhat to his amazement his light-hearted poem proved to be a great hit with other children and grown-ups as well, and the overwhelmingly positive reactions soon persuaded him to publish it. Since then this wonderfully evocative poem, which is now known as 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' has become more or less of a Christmas tradition. It's not likely you'll get through the Christmas Season without hearing atleast one reference to it. I personally heard of it by way of an equally marvelous Tom and Jerry Cartoon.

It seems somewhat amazing when you think of it now, but it was this tale of Clement Clarke Moore's and the imagery contained in it that has been mainly responsible for many of the current day notions about Santa Claus - a cheerful, rotund figure who flies around the world in sleigh drawn by flying, prancing reindeers and climbs down chimneys to brings presents for children. Everyone liked this idea of Santa Claus - who wouldn't? - and it soon came to be widely accepted. Later, in 1881, the image was rendered on paper by Thomas Nast, who was a political cartoonist for the famous Harper's Weekly magazine. He was the first artist to depict Santa Claus with his now familiar flowing white beard and moustache, his bright red, white fur trimmed suit, and his gift-filled brown sack. Thomas Nast also added the North-Pole Workshop, where, with the assistance of Mrs. Santa Claus and a whole troupe of Elves, toys are made and wrapped, and his version too has now become an accepted part of the Santa lore.

There has been much discussion in modern times about whether children should be fed the Santa myth at all, which seems a bit strange when there are many other less magical and less heartwarmingly imaginative myths - that Parents/Grandparents/Teachers/Leaders are a universally smart lot, and other nations are bombed to bring about world peace, to give two examples - that we dole out without a second thought.

Anyway, here's the original poem by Clement Clarke 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, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would 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 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, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

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, 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 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 hand, 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 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 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!"