Twas The Night Before Christmas



Let's start with the original Twas The Night Before Christmas (or A Visit from St Nicholas) allegedly by Clement Clarke Moore but more likely Henry Livingston

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 Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday 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 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 on 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 bowl full 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!"





Military Version of Twas The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,Air defences were up, with electronic eyes. Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.

Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,Was triply-redundant, linked to the Blue Cube,And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so denseThat nothing that flew could slip through our defence.

When out of the klaxon arose such a clatterI dashed to the screen to see what was the matter;I increased the gain and then, quick as a flash,Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.

And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded:An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded."Alert status red!" went the word down the wire,As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE!"

On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk!And scramble our fighters--let's send the whole flock!Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard!Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!

They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged.Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,As the foe met his fate in the high arctic night.

So we sent out some recon to look for debris,Yet all that they found, both on land and on seaWere some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,Broken sleigh bells, white hair, and a deer's parachute.

Now it isn't quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down.There are unhappy kids in each village and town.For the Spirit of Christmas can't hope to evadeAll the web of defences we've carefully made.

But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day,All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh.So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,For the future has hope: Santa's coming by stealth!

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) claims he wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822. It is now the tradition in many American families to read the poem every Christmas Eve. The poem Twas the night before Christmas has redefined our image of Christmas and Santa Claus. Prior to the creation of the story of Twas the night before Christmas St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers! It is said that the author of the poem Twas the night before Christmas was a reticent man and it is believed that a family friend sent it in to a newspaper. The first publication date was 23rd December 1823 and it was an immediate success. It was not until 1844 that Clement Clarke Moore inferred ownership when the work was included in a book of his poetry. Clement Clarke Moore came from a prominent family and his father Benjamin Moore was the Bishop of New York who was famous for officiating at the inauguration of George Washington. The tradition of reading Twas the night before Christmas poem on Christmas Eve is now a Worldwide institution. The most likely author was Henry livingston





PC Version of Twas The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...How to live in a world that's politically correct?His workers no longer would answer to "Elves"."Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.And labor conditions at the north poleWere alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.And equal employment had made it quite clearThat Santa had better not use just reindeer.So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.And people had started to call for the copsWhen they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his noseAnd had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notionThat making a choice could cause so much commotion.Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,Which meant nothing for him.And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.Nothing to aim, Nothing to shoot.Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.Nothing that's warlike or non-pacifistic.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.For they raised the hackles of those psychologicalWho claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;He just could not figure out what to do next.He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,But you've got to be careful with that word today.His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he mightGive to all without angering the left or the right.A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,Each group of people, every religion;Every ethnicity, every hue,Everyone, everywhere...even you.

So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...

May you and your loved ones, enjoy peace on Earth.

There are lots more versions of Twas the Night Before Christmas. Just google for funny versions and you'll get a Santa's hatfull


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