Signora Sheila

'Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the house 
Not a creature was hungry, not even a mouse; 
The stockings still hung there, all limp and bare, 
With hopes that no tummy aches would soon appear.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 
With visions of presents flying through their heads; 
And mamma in her hairnet, and I in my cap, 
Had just crashed down for a long winter's nap.

When out of their room, there arose such a clatter,
I staggered from bed to see what was the matter; 
Away to the hall I stumbled in a crash,
Tore open the door while fearing a smash. 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, 
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below; 
When what to my wondering eyes then comes, 
But a miniature band of eight tiny chums.

With a bad little leader so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be son Nick; 
More rapid than comets his cohorts they came, 
As he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now Darren, now Darcy, now Penny and Vincent, 
On Conrad, on Karen, on Donna and Kristen; 
To the top of the heap, to the best of the haul, 
Now dart away, dash away, race away all.

As kids off to a festive feast fly, 
When they meet with an obstacle, climb over so spry; 
So into the hallway the comrades they flew, 
With their bags for the toys, and Baby too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the steps, 
The running and romping of each little foot; 
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 
Out through the door came Nick with a bound.

Pajamas askew, from his head to his foot, 
And his hands were all filled with toys and loot; 
A bundle of robes he had flung on his back, 
And he looked like l'ill elf just opening his pack.

His eyes, how they twinkled, his dimples how merry! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry, 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 
But the look in his eye showed him set for a row.

The stick of a sucker he held tight in his teeth, 
And his breath it encircled his head like a wreath; 
He bore a sly look and his over-stuffed belly, 
It shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was impish and bold, a right jolly wee elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had plenty to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
And grabbed all the goodies then turned with a jerk;  
Then laying his finger aside of his nose, 
And giving a nod down the stairs he fast goes.

He sprang to the steps, to his team gave a whistle, 
And down they all flew like the down of a thistle; 
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he raced out of sight, 
"On to the nursery, and we'll party all night!"

This little poem is my sequel variation of “The Night Before Christmas,” which is attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, in the Public Domain. I hope it brought a bit of Christmas fun and joy to your heart!

📷 Image credits: gift; kids asleep; mouse; man in nightcap; kids on steps; boy peaking; angry kid; kids with flashlight