Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a sneaker was squeaking, not a thing like a mouse;


The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes for some Nikes that would soon be there;


The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Pumas dashed through their heads;


With Ma in her slippers and I in my cap
We’d just settling down for our long winter’s nap,


When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I threw on my shoes to see what was the matter.


Away to the window I bound at a dash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash


The moon on the sole of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to lining below,


When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight kinds of footwear,


With a baller old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.


More rapid than sandals, his footgear they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:


Now ASICS, now Gravis, now Woolrich, and Eastland!
On Converse, on K-Swiss, on Skechers, and Justin!


To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now sprint away! rush away! bound away all!


So up to the house-top the footgear did spring
With the sleigh full of Shoes and St. Nicholas too.


As I pulled back inside, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.


He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his boot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;


A bundle of Shoes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a cobbler just opening his pack.


His Oakleys -- how they twinkled! his Dickies how merry!
His Klogs were like roses, his Keds colored cherry!


His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;


He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.


A wink of his eye and a tilt of his head,
Put me right at ease - 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 he rose;


He sprang to his sleigh, to his kicks gave a whistle,
Away they all scattered like the down of a thistle.


Then I heard him cry out, as away they all flew,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good shoe.”