Classic poem gets local makeover
Wendy Miller is the program director for Eagle Valley Senior Life, which promotes resources to help seniors in the valley.
This version of Clement Clarke Moore’s clasic poem is dedicated to the local seniors:
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the church
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the alter with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The seniors were snoring all snug in their beds;
While visions of family danced in their heads;
And Wendy in her pjs, and Dan in his smock,
Had just settled in, while watching the clock,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Wendy sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window she flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to Wendy’s wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight gorgeous reindeer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
Wendy knew in a moment he 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, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the church! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the church top the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, Wendy heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As Wendy drew in her head, and was turning around,
From the top of the church he 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 on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a candy stick he held tight in his teeth,
And a garland of pine boughs he wore like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
Just like the seniors, he was a jolly old elf,
And Wendy laughed when she saw him, in spite of herself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon let Wendy know she had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but worked in a mist,
And filled the senior’s stockings with things from their list,
New teeth and a cane and warm slippers he brought
Hearing aids and chocolate and family pictures caught.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He winked at Wendy and 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 Wendy heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight—
“Happy Christmas Seniors, and to all a good night!”
Edited by Shirley Welch