Content
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Meowth;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Delibird soon would be there!
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When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my 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 a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny Stantler,
With a cute little driver, so lively and stirred,
I knew in that moment, she must be Delibird!
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She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
She sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, 'ere she drove out of sight—
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
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