12/24/2025
’Twas the night before Christmas, down at the rink,
Not a skater was stirring, not even a clink.
The stockings were hung from the nets with great care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would skate there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of breakaways danced in their heads.
And Ma in her parka, and I in my hat,
Had just settled in for a long winter’s nap.
When out by the boards there arose such a sound,
I sprang from the shack to see who was around.
Away to the door I went quick as a flash,
Pulled open the latch and stepped into the slash.
The moon on the snow piled high round the rink,
In Salol; quiet, cozy, and brink,
Gave a shimmer and shine to the ice’s cold blink.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a sleigh full of presents and eight skaters in gear!
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than wingers his skaters they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now Blades! Now Mitts! Now Helmets and Sticks!
On, Laces! On, Buckles! On, Elbows and Kicks!
To the top of the boards! To the center-ice line!
Now skate away! Skate away! Skate away fine!”
As snowbanks that stand when the north wind does blow
Hold firm through the cold and the long winter snow,
So onto the rink top the skaters they flew,
With a sleigh full of gifts — and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the ice
The smooth steady glide — sharp, clean, and precise.
As I turned back around, stamping warmth in my feet,
Down through the gate came St. Nick to glide on the sheet.
He was dressed all in red, from his hat to his toes,
And his clothes were covered in ice flecks and a dusting of snow.
A bundle of sticks he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a guy just back from a track.
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were red like the cold made them cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a grin,
And the beard on his chin was all frosted and thin.
The stump of a whistle he held tight in his teeth,
And the steam, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a warm, steady build,
That shook when he laughed, like a kid newly thrilled.
He was chubby and solid, a right jolly old skate,
And I laughed when I saw him, despite the cold late.
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
He pushed off on the ice, smooth glide as he goes.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
And away they all skated, a clean break-out route.
But I heard him exclaim, as he skated from sight,
“Happy Christmas to all — and good ice tonight!”
