• He comes in the night! He comes in the night!
    He softly, silently comes;
    While the little brown heads on the pillows so white
    Are dreaming of bugles and drums.
    He cuts through the snow like a ship through the foam,
    While the white flakes around him whirl;
    Who tells him I know not, but he finds the home
    Of each good little boy and girl.

    His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide;
    It will carry a host of things,
    While dozens of drums hang over the side,
    With the sticks sticking under the strings.
    And yet not the sound of a drum is heard,
    Not a bugle blast is blown,
    As he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird,
    And drops to the hearth like a stone.

    The little red stockings he silently fills,
    Till the stockings will hold no more;
    The bright little sleds for the great snow hills
    Are quickly set down on the floor.
    Then Santa Claus mount to the roof like a bird,
    And glides to his seat in the sleigh;
    Not a sound of a bugle or drum is heard
    As he noiselessly gallops away.

    He rides to the East, and he rides to the West,
    Of his goodies he touches not one;
    He eats the crumbs of the Christmas feast
    When the dear little folks are done.
    Old Santa Claus does all that he can;
    This beautiful mission is his;
    Then, children be good to the little old man,
    When you find who the little man is.

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