Twas da night before Christmas
I began to relax to a point
ven I heard creatures a stirring
all over da yoint.

My old socks vere hung
by da chimney wit care,
in hopes dat dere odor
would get them creatures out of here.

Da kids vere all nestled
all snug in dere beds,
vile visions uff fresh lefsa
danced in dere heads.
Me and Ma in our skivies
vith down pillows of goose
had yust settled down
for a long winter's snooze.

When out on da lawn
dere arose such a clatter,
I hid under da sheets
til ma saw what was da matter.
She flew to da window
in a 300 pound dash, tore da
shutters off dere hinges and flew open da sash.

When what to our wondering
eyes should appear on da loose,
but a miniature sled and eight
tiny reinmoose.

With dat tubby old codger
looking frostbit and lost,
I knew in a moment dat
it must be dat Claus.

More rapid dan herring
his coursers dey came,
as he bellered and svore
and called dem by name.

"Now Odin! Now Ingman!
Now Gunner and Vixon!
On Nordal! On Olaf! On Agnew and Nixon!

As I drew in my head
and vas turning around,
down da fake fireplace
came old man Claus vith a bound.
He vas dressed kind of goofy
from da front to da back,
and his clothes vere stretched out
from putting on too much fat.

His eyes, dey vere bloodshot.
His nose full of ooze.
His cheeks vere like roses
and his breadthe smelled like booze.
Da stump of a stogie
he held tight in his teeth,
and da smoke dat encircled him
stunk like a burnt out wreath.

He spoke not a word
but vent straight to his work,
pocketing all my valuables
dat crafty old jerk.
And laying his finger
outside of his nose,
he pushed me aside
and up my fake fireplace he rose.

He sprang to his sled
and to his moose yelled out clear,
"Ive got all der goodies,
let's get da heck outta here!"

But I heard him exclaim
as he flew out of sight,
"You should never
leave your fireplace
unlocked over night!"