![\"santa\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/biblearchive.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/12\/santa.jpg?resize=580%2C225\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The rhythm is often off since I haven’t sat down with it as much as I would like. It’s not even finished, really, and I wouldn’t be surprised if thousands of people have already undertaken to do the same. After all, Edgar Allen Poe was a genius and Clement Clarke Moore’s poem lies close to the modern practices. Ah well, at least it’s good for a laugh: “T’was\u00a0 The Night Before Christmas to The Tune of The Raven”.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n T’was the night before Christmas Evening, as children slept (all weak and weary) Ah, distinctly I remember it was in cold December where each family member Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering fearing Furred from head to foot, under layers of chimney soot, there he rode he with all the presents that he bore. The rhythm is often off since I haven’t sat down with it as much as I would like. It’s not even finished, really, and I wouldn’t be surprised if thousands of people have already undertaken to do the same. After all, Edgar Allen Poe was a genius and Clement Clarke Moore’s poem lies close to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[17],"tags":[376,851,64,852],"class_list":["post-3656","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reys-a-point","tag-christmas","tag-poe","tag-poetry","tag-raven"],"yoast_head":"\n
\n and naught a mouse was appearing, throughout my silent house,
\n that past my stockings hanging, there suddenly came a banging
\n As if someone quickly landing upon my lawn outdoors
\n ‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered “this is all\u2026
\n \u2026nothing more.”<\/p>\n
\n Lay down upon his (or her) precious bed.
\n My dearie’s kerchief flapping, and my head all night-capping,
\n And sugar-plums all a-clapping within our sleepy heads.
\n But that infernal clatter forced me to check the matter
\n as I jumped up out of my bed,
\n thus to the window I was led.<\/p>\n
\n And then, suddenly, hearing a hefty voice appealing eight fearsome reindeer all by name!
\n “Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen!”
\n Shouted out and then revealing a sleigh that they bore
\n And a little Old Driver dressed in days of yore.<\/p>\n
\n Chubby, plump, sweet and cheery, eyes a-twinkling, dimples merry, ros\u00e8d cheeks and nose-like cherry fast he entered in my chamber door.
\n Not the least obeisance made he, nor a chuckle gave he, as he walked right past me
\n “No! It can’t be!” I gasped “Old St. Nick?”
\n Thus he answered: “Ho Ho Ho.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"