tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65587781863625248642024-03-13T00:06:13.357-04:00Santa's LoveHere I am checking up on the clock department of the work shop. I'm not sure what Ernie is doing. Ho, Ho, HoBrian the old manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10758843142806407239noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558778186362524864.post-5305454859891570422010-12-24T20:13:00.003-05:002010-12-24T20:22:26.363-05:00Merry Christmas!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDYVGlMUx6ySSoYpNDvs7yNehftjDMbOy5iQFdJ8pR-SPclk2AFLrRFxjm96ZB0GX5jqSB364waR6xldyCMqjX5g5uYQC0Po706pD8nR1Kw9Wy8UgPih6oAGzemeEOT5H4PIvVKvo_Yum/s1600/Merry-Christmas.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554422253674176066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDYVGlMUx6ySSoYpNDvs7yNehftjDMbOy5iQFdJ8pR-SPclk2AFLrRFxjm96ZB0GX5jqSB364waR6xldyCMqjX5g5uYQC0Po706pD8nR1Kw9Wy8UgPih6oAGzemeEOT5H4PIvVKvo_Yum/s400/Merry-Christmas.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;">THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS<br /></span></em></strong>by Clement Clarke Moore<br />or Henry Livingston<br /><br />'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house<br /><br />Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;<br /><br />The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,<br /><br />In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;<br /><br />The children were nestled all snug in their beds,<br /><br />While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;<br /><br />And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,<br /><br />Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,<br /><br />When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,<br /><br />I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.<br /><br />Away to the window I flew like a flash,<br /><br />Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.<br /><br />The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow<br /><br />Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,<br /><br />When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,<br /><br />But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,<br /><br />With a little old driver, so lively and quick,<br /><br />I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.<br /><br />More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,<br /><br />And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;<br /><br />"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!<br /><br />On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!<br /><br />To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!<br /><br />Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"<br /><br />As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,<br /><br />When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,<br /><br />So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,<br /><br />With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.<br /><br />And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof<br /><br />The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.<br /><br />As I drew in my head, and was turning around,<br /><br />Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.<br /><br />He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,<br /><br />And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;<br /><br />A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,<br /><br />And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.<br /><br />His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!<br /><br />His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!<br /><br />His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,<br /><br />And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;<br /><br />The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,<br /><br />And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;<br /><br />He had a broad face and a little round belly,<br /><br />That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.<br /><br />He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,<br /><br />And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;<br /><br />A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,<br /><br />Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;<br /><br />He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,<br /><br />And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,<br /><br />And laying his finger aside of his nose,<br /><br />And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;<br /><br />He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,<br /><br />And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.<br /><br />But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><em>"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night." </em></strong></span></div>Brian the old manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10758843142806407239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558778186362524864.post-42597669210940747752010-06-08T17:02:00.002-04:002010-06-08T17:10:20.915-04:00The Santa Clause<object width="500" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/wFIjl9MbNGU&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" 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