withthanks to Clement Clarke Moore


'Twas the night before DeerHunting, when all through the camp,

Not a creature was stirring, not evena bug on the lamp.

The guns were all cleaned and put in theircases,

Awaiting being loaded and fired at 100 paces.

The hunterswere nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of 10-point bucksdanced in their heads.

And Dad in his long johns, and I in my baseballcap,

Had settled our brains for a short winter's nap

When out onthe trail there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what wasthe matter.

As I hurried to the window to see what was going onthere,

I saw an old green pickup truck with nine hunters in the backthere.

With a fat little driver all dressed in orange from his head to histoe,

I knew in an instant it must be Uncle Joe.

More rapid thaneagles, the hunters they came,

And he slammed on the brakes and calledthem by name.

"Now Tom! Now John! Now Bill and Mike!

ComeRick! Come Chuck! Come Zachary and Spike!

Get in the camp and jump on thebeds,

Wake up all the sleepy heads!"

They spoke many words andwent straight to their work,

And when all the hunters were up, they turnedwith a jerk.

And putting his hand upon his gun,

He dashed to thedoor in a very quick run.

He sprang to his truck, to his team gave awhistle,

And off they went like a shot of a missile.

But I heardhim say as he zoomed away in his truck,

"Happy Hunting to all, andI'll get the biggest buck!"