Posted on Friday, 21 December 2007

'Twas the night before Christmas, through Pemberley 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 Darcys were nestled all snugly a'bed,
As visions of "fine eyes" danced in one tousled head;
The Reynolds, attired in 'kerchief and cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Darcy sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he 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 mid-day to the action below,
As, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature orchestra, flute and fiddle so clear,
With a little old caller, so lively and quick,
Had to be Sir Lucas, a-waving his stick.
More rapid than eagles the dancers they came
Darcy whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Bingley! Fitzwilliam! Robinson, Pratt!
On, Denny! on Chamberlayne! Hurst - keep your hat.
Dance down the line, to the top of the wall!
Now twirl away! step away! dash away all!"
With scotch reels before the trumpet blast now,
When they meet with a partner, they curtsey and bow,
To the top of the line the dancers they flew,
With the Boulangere, Mr Beveridge, too.
And then, in a twinkling, he heard from below
That Grimstock and Shrewsbury Lasses did flow,
He drew in his hand, and was turning around,
When down on the lawn Mr Bennet was found.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his wife dancing with him, was trying to put
Every daughter of hers with just the right catch,
A redcoat, a fortune, an excellent match.
His eyes – how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His cynical 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 smoke danced around his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, while he danced, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
Darcy laughed when he saw it, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Darcy to know he had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight up the line,
He looked at Elizabeth, turned out so fine,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, into the cold air he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
Darcy heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas, dear son, and I wish you good-night."

The End