Twas the night before Christmas and all through the morgue
Not a body was stirring, not even a whore
The bodies where hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that Satan soon would be there
The corpses were nestles all snug in their graves
While visions of murder danced in thier heads
And Mamma in her coffin and I in my sarcoffigus
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap
When out in the cemetery, there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the grave to see what was the matter.

Away to the living I flew like a flash
Tore open the screaming and threw up the gore
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below
When, what to my wondering Satan should appear
But a miniature devil and eight tiny demons
When a little old driver so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be surrupted St. Nick
More rapid than death his coursers the came
And he murdered and pillaged 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 tombstone! to the top of the grave!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild storm fly
When the meet with an corpse mount to the sky
So up to the house-top the courses they flew
This the sleigh full og bodies and St. Nicholas, too
An the, in a twinkling, i heard on the grave
The prancing and pawing of each little slave
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas cam with a bound.

He was dressed all in leather from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with gore
A bundle of heads he had flung over his back
And he looked like the Grim Reaper
His eyes — how the glowed
His cheeks were like death, his nose like a dager
His droll little mouth was draw up like a sneer
And the beard of his chin was as white as beer;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his fangs
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath
He had a broad face and a little round little belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of guts
He aws 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 T had nothing to live for;

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 fart up the chimey he rose
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whip
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle
But i heard him threaten ere he drove out of sight
“When I get back, I will kill you all!!’