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Author Unknown He comes in the night! He comes in the night! He softly, silently comes; While the little brown heads on the pillows so white Are dreaming of bugles and drums. He cuts through the snow like a ship through the foam, While the white flakes around him whirl; Who tells him I know not, but he findeth the home Of each good little boy and girl. His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide; It will carry a host of things, While dozens of drums hang over the side, With the sticks sticking under the strings. And yet not the sound of a drum is heard, Not a bugle blast is blown, As he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird, And drops to the hearth like a stone. The little red stockings he silently fills, Till the stockings will hold no more; The bright little sleds for the great snow hills Are quickly set down on the floor. Then Santa Claus mont to the roof like a bird, And glides to his seat in the sleigh; Not a sound of a bugle or drum is heard As he noiselessly gallops away. He rides to the East, and he rides to the West, Of his goodies he touches not one; east When the dear little folks are done. Old Santa Claus doeth all tht he can; This beautiful mission is his; Then, children be good to the little old man, When you find who the little man is. Back to Christmas Stories and Poems |
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