Twas The Night Before Christmas Narrated by Michael Bublé

Twas the night before Christmas, and 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 sugarplums danced in their head. Mom in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winters nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the 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 newfallen snow Gave a lustre of midday to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer. With a little old driver, so lively and quick, Well I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and he c