For The Grands
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Senior (55+)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Ah, Max Hunter. Mhm. It's Kappa. I have a story for you if you'll take a few minutes to listen. It's called twas the Night Before Christmas towards 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 all nestled snug in their beds while visions of sugar plums danced in their hands and mama in her kerchief. And I, in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. When out on the roof 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 shutter and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow give the luster of midday to the objects below When, what to my wandering 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 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 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 housetop, the coursers. They flew with a sleigh full of toys and Saint Nicholas, too. And then, in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing 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 all dressed in for 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 the snow, the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke of it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf. And I laughed when I saw him. In spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of 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, then turned with a jerk and laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney heroes. He sprang to his sleigh to his team, gave a whistle, and then all flew like the down of a thistle. And I heard him explain. Harry drove out of sight. Be Christmas to all. And to all a good night. Mm hmm. Hey, Merry Christmas.