Becky Kelly - The Night Before Christmas

The Night Before Christmas illustrations copyright 2007 by Becky Kelly, LLC.
All rights reserved. Printed in China.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.
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for my father, Robert L. Wilson T was 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; T he 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 our brains
for a long winters nap, W hen out on the lawn
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my 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.
T he 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, W ith 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: N ow, 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! A s 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. A nd then, in a twinkling,
I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing
of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head,
and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas
came with a bound. H e 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. H e 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. H e 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. H e 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, I n her watercolor illustrations Becky Kelly captures the magic of her youth in West Virginia.