or Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas
by Major Henry Liv­ingston Jr. (1748–1828)
(pre­vi­ously believed to be by Clement Clarke Moore)

‘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 down 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 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, 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 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 hand, 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!”