A/N I do not own Halo or Twas the Night Before Christmas(A Visit from St. Nicholas)
by Clement Clarke Moore Halo is by Bungie
I own what I add.
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the base
Not a creature was stirring, not even a trace.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The Marines and Elites were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of plasma and frag grenades danced in their heads.
And Arbiter in his helmet, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for our long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our beds to see what was the matter.
Away to the window we flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
Master Chief knew in a moment it 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, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, we heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
The Arbiter drew his sword, 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 peddler, 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 of 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 bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
The Master Cheif laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we 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 We heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good-Night!"
