A Visit from St. Nicholas, aka The Night Before Christmas, is a poem from 1837 by Clement Clark Moore that we all know by heart. File this under too much time on my hands. A few things I noticed re-reading it, this year.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
Let's say you owned eight flying reindeer. You'd be hard pressed to pick a better name than, Comet.
Until, of course, you thought of Donner and Blitzen.
Why? Because, those names are German for thunder and lightning.
Santa is so metal.
Dancer and Prancer must be pissed.