'Twas the Night Before Christmas: Marian Edition

by Elizabeth Griffith | Dec 22, 2017

Adaptation of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

Fireplace at Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all across Marian
Not a creature was stirring, not even a librarian;
The stockings were hung in Doyle Hall with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The students were nestled all snug in the dorms,
As their Christmas dreams began to take form;
Mrs. Elsener and I warm in Marian gear,
Had just settled down to watch some holiday cheer,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
I ran down the stairs and slipped on my boots,
Threw open the door then reconsidered my route.

City lights reflected on the new-fallen snow,
Gave just enough light to make out the scene below,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Knightro on a sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

Next to him sat a driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a flash it must be St. Nick.
Faster than cars at the Indy 500 they came,
He whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

To the top of Doyle, Drew, and Clare Hall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

Was this real? Was I dreaming? Could I trust my eyes?
As they approached each building they arose in the sky.
So up to the roof-tops the merry band flew,
With the sleigh full of presents, and St. Nicholas too.

I snapped out of my daze when I heard on the roof, 
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
I hit record on my cell phone; my friends won't believe this.
I aimed at the fireplace and waited on St. Nicholas.

He wore blue and gold from his head to his foot,
His Marian gear covered with ashes and soot;
A bundle of presents 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 of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He 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;

He 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;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
Waved good-bye to Knightro, and shot up like a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL,” with an emphatic “GO KNIGHTS!”

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