was the night before christmas poem

On the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads. And mama in her kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter's nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.