 A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Anne Cheng. 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 when Mama 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 rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below. In 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 courses they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now dasher, now dancer, now prancer and bixen. On, Comet on, Cupid on, thunder and glitzen, 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 courses they flew, with a 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 that's 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 to 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, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by Abigail Bartels. 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 and her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. When out on the lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster 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 coarsers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, Dunder 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 housetop the coarsers they flew with a 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 the 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 in 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Anna Roberts. Twas the night before Christmas went 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 and her kerchief, and I and 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 my 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 a bluster of midday to objects below, when, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh, an 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, Dunder, and Blitzen. To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher away all. As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, sow up to the housetop, the coursers they flew, with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas, too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and ponding 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 wide 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 round little 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Bill Mosley, Frelzburg, Texas. 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, and the children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sure plums danced in their heads and mom and her kerchief, and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap when out on the lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below when what's my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature slag and eight tiny reindeer with a little old driver so lively, quick, and I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles as coarsers they came and he whistled and shouted, called them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen. On Comet, on Cupid, on Dunder and Blitzen. To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall. Now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher away all as dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly when they meet with an obstacle mountain sky so up to the housetop the coarsers they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each of the hoof and 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 bundled with toys. He had flung on his back and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes, how they twinkled, his temples, 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 smoke that the stop of a pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smoke encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly. He shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elephant. I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head and soon gave me to know I had nothing to spread. He spoke out a word but went straight to his work and filled all the stockings. Then turned with a jerk and laying his fingers on the side of his nose and giving a nod at the chimney he rose, sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. Ha ha ha. Into the poem this recording is joyfully in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read for Lieberbach's ad orc by Caliban. It was 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 all knuttled, all snug in their beds, all 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 snap. When out on the lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below. When what to my wondering eyes should appear put 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 courses 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 Dunder 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 housetop the courses they flew with a 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 reef. He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he lapped 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 billed all the stockings and 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 explain ere he drove out of sight. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. And to poem. This recording is placed into the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Clara Snyder. It was 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 and 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 my 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 a luster 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 coarsers 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 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 housetop the coarsers they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pong 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 drawl 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, air he drove out of sight, merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by Icy Jumbo. It was 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 or snug in their beds while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads and Mamar 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 rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below, when, what to my wandering 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 course as they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now Dasha, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Dunder and Blitzen, to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now Dasha away, Dasha away, Dasha 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 housetop the course as they flew with a 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, air he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all and to all, a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. 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 lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster 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 coarsers 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 housetop the coarsers they flew with a 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 ear he drove out of sight. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence. Christmas 2009 in Brampton, Ontario. Twas the night before Christmas went 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 Inner Kirchoff and I and my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter snap. When out on the lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster 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 coarsers 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 Dunder and Blitzen, to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher 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 housetop the coarsers they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too. 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 bowl 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 a 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. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Ernst Patinama, December the 23rd, 2009, Amsterdam, the Netherlands. It was 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 or snug in their beds while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. And Mama in her kerchief and I in my cup had just settled our brains for a long winter snap when out on the lawn there rose such a clatter. I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, door opened shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below. When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh, an eight tiny reindeer with a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid and eagles his courses 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, Dunder and Blitzen to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall. Now Dashaway, Dashaway, Dashaway 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 courses they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pouring of each little hoof as I drew in my head and was turning around down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bount. 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 yet flung on his back and he looked like a peddler just opening his back. 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 a beard on his chin was as white as a snow. In the stump of a pipe he had tied 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 dolly 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 knot up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his steam 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. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clemore-Clarke Moore right for LibreVox.org by Ellie. It was 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 snap. When out on the lawn there was such a glitter it sprang from a bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window a flew like a flash to open the shutters and throw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a last breath midday to objects below. Then what to my wandering eyes should appear but the miniatures lay and ate tiny reindeer. With a little old driver so lifelike and quick and new in a moment it must be something. My rapid and eagernessous curses they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now desher, now denser, now prancer and wixen. Uncommit, un, cupid, un, thunder and blitzen to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall. Now desher way, desher way, desher way all. The stray leaves that before the world heard can fly when they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky. So up to the house top the curses they flew with the sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too. And then in twinkling a heard on the roof the prancing and pouring of each little hoof as they threw 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 tarnished with ashes and soot. The bundle of toys he had flung on his back and he looked like a peddler just opening his back. His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His troll little mouse was drawn up like a bowl and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stamp of a pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smoke then circled his head like a breeze. 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 red trolley old elf and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and the twist of his head some 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 the way they all flew like the dawn of a tistle. But the heard him exclaim and he drove out of sight. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read forlebrox.org by Eswa in Belgium in December 2009. It was 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 cup had just settled our brains for a long winter snap. When out on the lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster 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 courses they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now dasher, now dancer, now prancer and vixen, on cometon, cupidon, dunder 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 courses they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too. And then in 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 far 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 steam 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. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Kara Schellenberg. T'was 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 lawn 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster 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 coarsers 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 porch, to the top of the wall, now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher 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 housetop the coarsers they flew with a 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, air he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by Lucy Perry. Twas the night before Christmas went all through the house. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in the 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. A mamar 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 rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster 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 course as 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 Dondren Blitzen, to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall. Now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher away all, as dry leaves that before the wild hurrick can fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house top the course as they flew, with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too, and then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pouring 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 thrall 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, ear he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. Christmas 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 lawn there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, or opened the shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave a luster 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 coarsers 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 Dunder 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 housetop the coarsers they flew, With a 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 ewned 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 bowl, 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore Redford LibriVox.org by Mike Venditti Was the night before Christmas went 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-pulms danced in their heads. And Mama in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter snap. But out on the road such a gladder I sprang from my bed To see what was the matter, but wait till the wind of life Flew like a flash tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of a new fallen snow Gave a luster of midday to objects below. One what to my wondering eye 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 coarsers 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 Dunder 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 wind hurricane fly When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky So up to the house top the coarsers they flew With a 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 bow. He was dressed all in fur, 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 back. 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 bowl. 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 in 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 chubbly and plump, a right jolly ol' 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 of 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, Mary drove out of sight. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore Read for Leverbox.org by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. T'was 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 lawn 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, Tor opened the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow Gave a luster of midday to objects below. When what to my wondering eye should appear But a miniature sleigh and a 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 my name. No dasher, no dancer, no prancer, and vixen, On Comet, on Cupid, on Dunder in Blitzen, To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, No dash away, dash away, dash away all. As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with the obstacle, mount to the sky, So up to the housetop the coursers they flew, With a 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 its 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 a side 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! End of poem This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore Tours 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. 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 and her kerchief and I in my cap Had just settled our brains for a long winter snap. When out on the lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon, on the breast of the new fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh and a tiny vendia, The little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles, his quarters 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 Dunder and Blitzen, To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher away all. As dry leaves set before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle mounted to the sky, So up to the house top the quarters they flew, With a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too, And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, The prancing and pouring 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 front and gone his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his back. 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 ball 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 tizzle. But I heard him exclaim every drop out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. T'was 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 sugarplums danced in their heads. And Mamar 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 rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow Gave a luster of midday to objects below. When what to my wandering 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 courses 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 Dunder and Blitzen, To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher 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 housetop the courses they flew With a 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 bone, 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, air he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by Raven Notation. It was 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 lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, Gave a luster of midday to objects below, When up to my wandering 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 sent Nick. More rapid than eagles his courses 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, Dunder and Blitzen, To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher 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 courses they flew, With a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, The prancing and pouring 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 bowl, 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 explain ere he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by Rick Rodstrom. Twas the night before Christmas went 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 lawn there rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash, The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, Gave a luster of midday to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, an 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 coarsers they came, And he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, and Vixen, On Cullet, on Cupid, on Dunder, 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 housetop the coarsers they flew, With a 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibriVox.org by Sean McGahey. DuctateGuy.net Twas the night before Christmas went 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. A mama 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 rose 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 shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow Gave a luster of midday to objects below. One 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 courses 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 Dunder 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, Sew up to the housetop the courses they flew, With a 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 lay, to his teen 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore. Read for LibreBox.org by Tricia G. To us 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 lawn there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tor opened the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow Gave a luster of midday to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh and a 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 coarsers 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 Dunder 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 housetop the coarsers they flew, With a 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. 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 lawn there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tor opened the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow Gave a luster of midday to objects below. When what to my wandering 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 coarsers they came, And he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Fixen. On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder 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 housetop the coarsers they flew, With a 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 A side 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, Merry Christmas to all, and to all, good night.