‘Twas the Night Before Christmas at Orchard House…

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Orchard House, too many creatures were stirring, Fancy’s eating a mouse;



The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 

In hopes that Bob Evans would not eat them there;



The alpaca were nestled all snug in their beds,

 While visions of orchard grass danced in their heads;



And Donnie in his Snuggie, and I in my mink,

 Had just settled down for a tall winter’s drink,

 When out on the pasture 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,

 On the corner of the bed my knee I did bash.

 The moon on the breast of the new-fallen rain

 gave sight to mud covered fields below,

 When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

 But a miniature pony, and eight large llama (not deer!),

 With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

 I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

 More rapid than Bacon his coursers they came,

 And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;



“Now, Richard! Now, Hyacynth! Now, Onslow and Daisy!

 On, Patsy! On Edina! On, Saffy and Rose!

 To the top of the fence! To the top of the barn!

 Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

 As finches in their cages do try and fly,

 When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

 So up to the house-top the llamas they flew,

 With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

 And then, in a stomping, I heard on the roof

, the pounding and pawing of each heavy hoof.

 As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

 Straight through a window St. Nicholas came with a bound.

 He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his knee,

 And his clothes were all tarnished with glass shards and pee;



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 sunk!

 His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a drunk!

 His droll little mouth was drawn up like in a smile,

 And the beard of his chin well it reached n’er a mile;



The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

 With a ‘No Smoking’ sign hanging beside on the wreath;



He had a broad face and a little round belly,

 that hinted he had eaten too much at a deli.

 He was chubby and plump, a right heafty old elf,

 And I screamed 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, out the window he rose;



He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a yell,

 And away they all flew like a bat out of hell.

 But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

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2 Responses to ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas at Orchard House…

  1. Julie says:

    Merry Christmas to all at Orchard House! A truly inspired poem.
    ;-)

  2. Jacqueline says:

    Beautiful! Love it.

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