Silent night, holy night, in the woods, burns a light, Where a voice

Call sweet and low

Calling for all the falling to go

We'll follow the beast.

Steve in heaven is peeve.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

You're miss boot.

Stay tuned.

Plus a night before Christmas, when deep in the gloom, not a soul dared to breathe in that cold haunted room.

Stockings hung taut like the threat of a snare and weight of the monster that soon would be

there.

And what to my wonder-struck eyes should appear but a shadow-wraithed sleigh and ate ruby red deer with the withered old driver

so ghastly and grim that I knew in an instant it had to be him.

More swift than the nightmas, his courses they came.

He hissed and he shrieked and he called them by name.

Now havoc, now war, now panic and pain.

On torment, on terror, on dreaded, on bane.

Down the chimney he slithered with Madison's spite, his eyes gleaming evil that cold

winter night.

His fur coat was tattered, all covered in frost like he'd crossed the dark valley where

all hope was lost.

So I smacked him with a shovel real hard in the back and the the children ran out, and they snatched up his sack.

...