A special reading of ‘Twas the Night before Christmas, by the staff and volunteers of B&NES Council, filmed in 2020. Read the full poem below.
‘Twas The Night Before Christmas’ or ‘A Visit From St. Nick’ was written by Clement Clarke Moore in the 1920’s. It has become a beloved favourite, embodying all that is warm and comforting about the festive period.
A hundred years later, the staff and volunteers of Bath and North East Somerset Council created this reading to spread some festive cheer in our community and wish ‘A happy Christmas to all!’.
To make this video we filmed ourselves at home, via video conferencing or in socially-distanced offices. We had help from colleagues, friends, family and dogs!
We decorated ourselves and our spaces, and used our phones, tablets and computers to record a few lines of this lovely poem, and we had a few giggles along the way!
Like everyone that year, we did our best!
Did You Know?
This poem has featured in films, TV programmes and has even been set to music and recorded!
This poem is the source for many of our ideas of Father Christmas, including him visiting on Christmas Eve.
Moore originally wrote the poem for his children and was hesitant to take credit for it. By the time he claimed authorship, seven other people had already said they wrote it!
A Visit From St Nicholas or ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas
'Twas 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 sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer, With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the housetop the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too— And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler 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, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old 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 nothing to dread; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
-Clement C. Moore, 1823