Filed under: Fraccing | Tags: fracas, Friends, Family, Christmas, Merry Christmas, Fraccers, Twas the Night before Christmas, Christmas Poem, X-Ma, Clement Clarke Moore
Right now it’s about noon in the fraccy corner of the world and while I still have some time to go before I worry about that jolly man in red trying to see me while I sleep (no John.. I’m not talking about you this time), for some of the fraccy readers, it’s time to tuck in the young ‘uns to that famous and often parodied poem… and for still others, you’ll be waking up ready to see what’s in the stockings in only a couple of hours.
Indeed, fracas is fortunate to have readers from all over the world. If I haven’t said it enough this year, please know how very grateful I am for all your support, attention and loyalty. You all are truly the best present a gal could have… even better than shoes! I would name you all, but would rather die than forget someone. If you’re on the fraccers list (blogroll, see the tab up top) or on the fuelroll in the righthand sidebar, you know I luv ya. If you’re not… then stop lurking and let me know who you are! Some of you have no blogs, and yet, via some places that shall not be divulged here, have been like fraccers for years. I luv you too, and no matter what you say… my butt is not as large as you think!
To Aussiebabe… (who is not yet on the rolls, hint hint), her hubby with such a great name, her charmalicious daughter; to the fractabulous daughter of the fracalicious LindaC (and her fraccy man.. a birdie told me he’s a fraccer too) and any other fraccy family member who might be lurking and wondering why the heck I refuse to act my age… a very Merry and Blessed Christmas to you!
I would like to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas!
And yes. Those are actual fraccy gingersnaps baked in the actual fraccy kitchen. If I could send all of you a batch, I would.
Twas the Night before Christmas
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 our brains 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 tinny 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, 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 head, 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!”
Read about this poem’s origin here.
