Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even Mini Mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Benardic soon would be there.

The dogs were nestled all snug in our bed,
While visions of dog treats danced in their heads.
Mamma Missy in her ‘kerchief, and Daddy Murph's in his scarf,
Mari and Minger started to bark!

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what the was the matter.

The moonlight on the crest of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny canines there.

With a little old Retriever, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Bernardic.
More rapid than Beagles his coursers they came,
And he howled , and barked, and called them by names!

"Now, Dachshund! now, Dane! now, Papillon and Bermese!
On, Whippet! On, Poodle! on, Cockapoo and Maltese!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

And away they all ran like the sprint of a Greyhound.
I heard him exclaim, as they bound out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

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