He comes in the night! He comes in the night!
He softly, silently comes;
While the little brown heads on the pillows so white
are dreaming of bugles and drums.
He cuts through the snow like a ship through the foam,
while the white flakes around him whirl;
Who tells him I know not, but he findeth the home
of each good little boy and girl.

His sleigh is long, and deep, and wide;
It will carry a host of things,
while dozens of drums hang over the side,
with the sticks sticking under the strings.
And yet not the sound of a drum is heard,
not a bugle blast is blown,
as he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird,
and drops to the hearth like a stone.

The little red stockings he silently fills,
till the stockings will hold no more;
The bright little sleds for the great snow hills
are quickly set down on the floor.
Then Santa Claus mont to the roof like a bird,
and glides to his seat in the sleigh;
Not a sound of a bugle or drum is heard
as he noiselessly gallops away.

He rides to the East, and he rides to the West,
of his goodies he touches not one;
He eateth the crumbs of the Christmas feast
when the dear little folks are done.
Old Santa Claus doeth all that he can;
This beautiful mission is his;
Then, children be good to the little old man,
when you find who the little man is.

Page created on December, 17, 2004