The night before Christmas, all quiet through the house,
My children were sleeping – and so was my spouse.
Along down the passage, with nobody there,
I crept to fill stockings, with stealth and with care.

I took from the “fridge a mince pie, on a plate;
A goblet of glass of sherry, I placed in the grate,
I left them for Santa, to sup and to sip.
And wish him “God speed,” when away he would slip.

I emptied the goblet, I”m not certain why;
Whilst downing another, I ate the mince pie!
Too soon it was gone. Then, light in the head,
I tottered a bit, when searching for bed!