Twas 2 days before Christmas

Twas the night before the night before Christmas

when all through deviantart

A few creatures were stirring, even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the front page with care,

In hopes that a new deviantation soon would be there;

The deviants were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of artwork danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the website there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the computer I flew like a flash,

Clicked open the window and threw up the sash.

The logo on the breast of the new-designed homepage,

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver,across the screen, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the screen! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the top of the screen,

So up to the screen-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the moniter

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of subscriptions he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his computerized chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round pixel belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right virtually jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist 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 on the home page; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the virtual chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he clicked out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."