A classic tail with a dinosaur twist.
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
or account of a visit from St. Nicholas
by
Major Henry Livingston Jr. (1748 – 1828)
(previously believed to be by Clement Clarke Moore)
this version told by a young Triceratops!
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the forest
Not a creature was stirring, not even an Allosaurus,
The stockings were hung on the conifer with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there,
The dinosaurs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sweet-nuts danced in their heads,
And Mamma with some ferns, and Dad with some thatch,
Had just settled down for a long winters nap,
When out in the tree tops there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my nest to see what was the matter,
Away to the clearing I flew like a flash,
Tore back the shrubs and kicked up some ash.
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 raptors to steer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than archaeopteryx 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, DONDER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the trees! to the top of the mountain 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 mountain-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in the twinkling, I heard on the ground
The prancing and clawing with each little pound.
As I drew in my foot, and was turning around,
Down to the clearing 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 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 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 elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself,
A wink of his eye a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up from the clearing he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they 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!”
Happy Holidays
Paul & Prehistoric Pals
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