Twas the night before Chrismas,
And all through the shop,
Not a creature was stirring,
Except for ol' pop.

The hand-tools were hung
By the workbench with care
In hopes that tomorrow
Even more would be there

The children were nestled
All snug in their beds
While sounds of pop's shop tools
Danced in their heads

And ma in her earplugs,
And a little night cap,
Had just settled down
For a long winter's nap.

When out in the workshop
There arose such a clatter
I sprang from the shop
To see what was the matter.

I heard lots of cussing,
And then a big crash.
I tore open the shutters,
And threw up the sash.

The moon breast of new-fallen snow
Gave lustre to mid-day objects below
When what I saw about threw me back.
'Twas a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny kayaks.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be ol' Nick (Schade, that is).
More rapid than eagles his kayaks they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now Great Auk, now Play, now Expedition, now Double,
On Razor, on Little Auk, Night Heron and Coastal.
To the top of the waves, to the top of the swell,
Now surf away, surf away, surf away well!

As winds come and like a hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky,
So up to the housetop the kayaks they flew,
With a sleigh full of tools, and Nick Schade too.

And then in a twinkling I heard through the halls.
The sliding and slipping of well-designed hulls.
As I drew in my tools and was turning around,
Down through the chimney Nick came with a bound.

He was dressed in a Tulik from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of tools he had flung on his back.
And he looked like a paddler just opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like redwood, his nose like cherry,
His droll little hands were all tattered and blue,
And covered with epoxy and dried bits of glue.

The stump of a staple was stuck in his teeth,
And bits of 'glass encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed like a slow-cure epoxy.

He was covered in sawdust, a right sloppy old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of an 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 layed up a hull then turned with a jerk,
And laying the 'glass and rigging the deck,
And giving a nod up the chimney he lept.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his kayaks gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he paddled out of sight,
Merry Christmas To All, And To All A Good Night!!!