Clement and Me

Welcome to our Monthly Word Counters Challenge.

This month’s number is 19.

My lines? EXACTLY 19.

Clement Clarke Moore’s? Approximate. 

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Definitely not our house. There are two Seniors—with bladders—living here. All we do all night is stir…

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

No comment. Except to say we’ve discovered stockings hold a lot more when sitting on a chair. Just sayin’… 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

Okay, yes, this was written long ago. Now their visions are of switches, video games and American Girl dolls.

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

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

Hey. If you have kids, I say rest while you can. Any CONSIDERATE person would understand you need…uh-oh… 

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

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

Have you ever been awakened in the night—heart pounding and your mind headed frantically off in all directions?

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

It always amazes me that the author had the wherewithal to do this in order. Obviously a quick waker!

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

There’s just something about the sight of the moon shining on the snow. It’s magical. What are your thoughts?

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

I’ve seen lots of things when looking out my window. I can honestly say these aren’t on the list.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

Whew! A bit of relief here. For a moment there, I was picturing the Mounties. Or worse, the Revenuers.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

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

I should probably mention that I’m not into speed. The idea of flying quicker than eagles makes me…nauseated. 

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

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

This truly amazes me. I have six children and I’ve NEVER gotten everyone’s names right. And I named them.

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

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

I’ve driven a sleigh and I fairly certain I’ve never—ever—given this command. Or anything close to it. 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

I have to admit this is true. When grandchildren meet an obstacle, their first reaction is to go up.

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

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

Rooftop landing: “like trying to hit a bullet with a smaller bullet whilst wearing a blindfold, riding a horse”.

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

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

I’m truly hoping that those are light little hooves. Otherwise, I’m seeing a shingle job in someone’s near future.

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

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

I’m thinking: front doors. Wouldn’t it be easier if everyone just had a lock-box with a special ‘Santa’ key?

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

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

Fur for sure. There’s nothing better for flying through frigid air. The ashes and soot? See the previous paragraph…

A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

I’m thinking this is the one and only time you’d want a peddler—with wares—in your front room. 

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

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

This is the perfect picture of someone who loves what they do. In the very cold out of doors.

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

Again, loving what he does. But that white beard… Elderly? Or stylish and with a really good hairdresser?

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

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

I have a thing or two to say about his smoking. Even more so in a home NOT his.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

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

Okay, my Uncle Lonnie had such a face. And belly. And you have to know he laughed. A lot.

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

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

Back to Uncle Lonnie. Chubby: check. Plump: check. Jolly: check. Made me laugh: check. Am I seeing a pattern here?

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

Have you ever had that happen? Where you just look at someone and know they’re trustworthy? Yeah, me, neither. 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

I like this. It shows that Santa was not only jolly, but, more importantly, had a good work ethic.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

Huh. With the going down and rising up, does anyone ever have to pay to have their chimneys cleaned? 

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

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

I’ve seen thistledown fly. Light, yes. But a few other words come to mind. Unplanned. Erratic. Unpredictable. Flammable.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

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

What else can I say but, “Right back acha! And, Santa. Thanks for the generations (and generations) of entertainment!” 

This month’s word count number was brought to you by: Karen of Baking In A Tornado 

Links to the other Word Counters posts:

Baking In ATornado

Messymimi’sMeanderings