T’was the Night before Christmas

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T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the dwelling,
Not a critter was stirring, not even a lemming.
The moccasins all hung by the wood stove with care,
In hopes that Dear Santa soon would be there.

The children were all snuggled on a caribou hide,
While grandma and grandpa huddled beside.
And momma in her mink robe, and I in my felt-cap,
Had just settled down for a long peaceful nap.

When out in the cold, there arose such a blow!
I scrambled from bed to check out the show.
Away to the exit, I flew like a grouse,
Flipped open the door, and peeked out like a mouse.

The night lamp in the heavens lit up the fresh snow,
Giving the animals a glowing light down below.
When, what to my sleepy eyes should appear,
But a strange toboggan and eight tasty reindeer.

With the chubby old foreigner, so merry and blessed,
I knew in a moment, he must be my guest
More swift then seagulls his coursers they came,
As he clamoured and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer! Now, Vixen!
On, Comet! On, cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the hills! To the top of the squall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As willow ptarmigan fly before the blizzard blow,
When they meet an arrow up in the sky flung by a bow
And down to the side of the tent they all flew,
With a sleigh full of playthings, and Santa Clause too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard outside the lodging,
The sound of majestic caribou, grunting and prancing.
As I hid under covers, and peeked from a pillow,
Lo Santa Clause came in, with cane made of willow!
He was dressed all in fancy robes from his head to his feet,
And his clothes were all covered with flurries and sleet.
A sack-full of sweets, he had placed on the cache,
And he looked like a fur-trader, just opening his cash.

His eye-lashes how icy! His eyebrows how shaggy
His boots of fine leather, and his pants, awfully baggy
And the fluffy white ball from his red hat, that dangled by his hair,
It gave me the impression that he had snared the arctic hare.

And the clothing he wore, was of high-quality fur,
It gave me a sign; that he too, was a fine trapper.
He had a round face and a huge tummy,
That only mad foxes, to them, looked yummy.
He was full of smiles and forever humming, a joyful old elf,
And I was eager to have him all year long, all to myself.
And the bannock in his mouth, that he seemed to savour,
Was baked in a tee-pee, and he enjoyed the tasty flavour.

He mumbled a few words and went on with his business,
Filling moccasins with presents and full of kindness.
Then struggling to cough out the dry bannock,
Santa flew out to the door, in a great panic.

He fled to his toboggan, to his fresh-meat gave a cry,
And away they all flew into the night sky.
But I heard him exclaim, as he flashed by the mountains,
“Good night and Merry Christmas to all, to all you Indians!”

By Ron Sheshamush
Inspired by the “Twas the Night before Christmas” Poem

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