‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the farm, Not a creature was stirring, to do any harm; Bushel baskets were placed by the market with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The orchards were nestled all snug in the ground, While visions of sweet spring time danced all around. And the farmer in her bibs and standard farm cap, had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the farm there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the 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.
The 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 so many, many tree eating deer.
And then more motion, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he shouted, “Stop eating those trees, what a shame,”
“And stay out of the grapes and the strawberries too, and tell all your friends they better just shoo, These trees are preparing for the 2020 crop, for eager CLO customers to get when they shop.”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So away from the tree-tops the coursers they flew, leaving alone the vineyards and blueberries too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a new sound. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down through the market St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to farm boots, And his clothes were all tarnished with dirt and stained fruits, Something large was flung on his back, And I wondered, what did he have in that sack?
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were apple red, his nose like a sweet cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up so sweet, And I saw leftover sugar from a donut treat.
He was eating an apple and then a pear, but I saw him looking at pies, I swear, He had a broad face and a donut shaped belly, That shook, when he laughed like a jar of grape jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I wondered if he’d found peach brandy on the shelf; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, showed empty hard cider bottles he had instead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the bushels; then turned with a jerk, I could see new farm tools; some pruners and hoes, but where was that new tractor I recently chose?
He moved to leave and I heard an engine roar, he was driving my new tractor right out the door, But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!