Christmas Classic

Profile photo for Dennis Hensley
Not Yet Rated
0:00
Audiobooks
4
0

Description

This demo showcases the range of flexibility, sensitivity, and power in my voice. The demo illustrates the dynamic range I possess and the level of emotions I can convey.

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)

Accents

North American (General)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
It was the night before Christmas when, 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 heads and mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's nap 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 luster 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. I knew in a moment it must be Saint 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 Dunder and Blitzen to the top of the porch to the top of the wall. Now dash away, dash away, dash away all And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof as I drew in my hand 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 back. 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 smoking encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him. In spite of myself in a wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know that I 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 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 I heard him exclaim, Ere He drove out of sight. Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.