A Visit from St. Nicholas', American English. Full reading
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
a reading of I visit from ST Nicholas in English. It was the night before Christmas went 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 Saint Nicholas would soon be there. The Children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads and mama in her kerchief. And I in my cap, just said love brains for a long winter's went out on the lawn. There arose such a clatter. I sprang from my 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 new fallen snow gave the lustre of midday objects below. When, what to my wandering eyes did appear but a miniature sleigh and 18 green dear, with a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he 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, now vixen on Comet on Cupid on Donner on Blitzen, the top of the porch to the top of the wall. Now dash away, dash away, dash away, all as the leaves that fall before the wild hurricane fly. So when they meet an obstacle mount to the sky. So up to the house top the coursers. They flew the sleigh full of toys and ST Nicholas two. And then, in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the present employing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around down the chimney, ST Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed in all for from head 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 on his chin was as white as this, still 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 in a let around belly that shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. He was chubby and plump and a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him. In spite of myself. A week of his, I twisted his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work and filled all the stockings and then turned with a jerk and laying his finger aside his nose and giving a nod up the chimney, he rose. He sprang to his sleigh. His team. He gave a whistle and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, Ere He drove out of sight. Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.