Twas the night before ChristmasWhen all through the houseNot a creature was spendingNot even a louse The stockings were hungby the chimney with careHoping ...
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the yard. Not a creature was stirring; the ground froze too hard. The stockings were hung by the stables ...
And the nearest we own to a fireplace is a smoker. Our stockings were all holey and strewn under the bed, So our old hunting boots hung by the smoker instead.