Magic Reindeer fly on high,
when Christmas spirit fills the sky.

Ruldolph with a little something for you!

Flying o'er the window sills,
with every Christmas wish
that's filled.

Yes, Santa calls his prancing deer-
on Christmas Eve of every year.

And then, they fly unto his sleigh
and in an instant they are up,
up and away!

April 19, 1970
By Linda A. Copp ©

Santa's Workshop
Where elves are busy building children's toys.

The elves are very busy
building children's toys
Watching, ever mindful
of little girls and boys.
Reading o'er the letters
that Santa sent their way.
Remembering very merrily,
that they have to fill the sleigh.
Children are expectant
of every dream they've had
And Santa's very worried
and yet, so very glad.

He has to work the hardest,
seems to get no rest,
Yet, the toys they all are building
just have to be the best.
So, eleven hands move the faster
and worn little faces smile,
As Christmas Day draws closer
as does each North Pole mile.
And Santa's drinking hot chocolate

and filling up the sleigh.
Putting on his stocking cap and boots,

And Look!

He's up and on his way!

By Linda A. Copp © December 1, 1960

Tried to receive written permission for the two above poems, but the e-mail is no longer on the server given. Credit goes to this web site: sunniebunniezz.com

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

by
Major Henry Livingston Jr. (1748-1828)
(previously believed to be by Clement Clarke Moore)

'Twas 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;
fireplace
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I 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 luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering 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, DONDER 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 house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. 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 hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from 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 of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful 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 he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"

Christmas Tree

My kitten thinks

the Christmas tree

is more than something

just to see.

She taps the balls

of green and red,

and swings the tinsel

overhead.

And rings the bells,

and then starts to purr

as if we'd trimmed it

all for her.

Aileen Fisher

A Christmas Gift for Santa

Bobbi Katz

We all hung up our stockings,

and we left you a nice snack.

By now, I guess, dear Santa,

you have filled your heavy pack.

Your reindeer must be ready

to take you for a ride.

Do you have both your mittens?

It's so very cold outside.

Be careful, please, dear Santa,

on the rooftops where you go.

They're slanty and they're slippery

with a crust of ice and snow.

I guess I should be tired,

but I cannot fall asleep.

Tonight I'll count some reindeer,

instead of counting sheep.

I think you are the nicest man

to do the things you do.

Merry Christmas, Santa dear,

and a happy New Year, too!

Christmas Memories

Late December, through the snowing
nighttime comes a gleaming glowing,
growing 'til it's shining, showing
to the children who believe.

Santa Claus comes sledding, gliding
with his sleigh and reindeer riding
over rooftops, Rudolph guiding
each and every Christmas Eve.

Bringing presents packed in wrapping
to the children, nicely napping,
who'll be snipping, ripping, clapping
in the morning, 'round the tree.

Yes, tonight he's lightly landing,
with the reindeer he's commanding,
on our housetop, stretching, standing,
bringing gifts for you and me.

Down the chimney Santa's sliding
with the presents he's providing.
'Cross the floor he's stepping, striding,
carrying upon his back

slingshots, seesaws, slides and swingsets,
rocking horses, rides and ring sets,
capes and crowns in queen and king sets,
all within his magic sack.

With his presents now he's kneeling,
near the tree that taps the ceiling,
leaving balls and trucks for wheeling,
reeling round the kitchen floor.

Flicking flakes of fallen flocking
from his suit coat, smiling, rocking,
Santa stands and stuffs each stocking
with a doll or dinosaur.

Carefully each gift is meted
'til each girl and boy is treated.
Then, at last, his work completed,
Santa Claus prepares to go.

High his hefty sack he's heaving
up the chimney, lifting, leaving,
in a blink beyond perceiving
and he’s off into the snow.

Now the dawn is slowly breaking,
all the children yawning, waking,
hasten to the happy making
of a wondrous Christmas morn.

Near the yule log's dying ember
we discover and remember
all our lives that each December
childhood memories are born.

--Kenn Nesbitt and Linda Knaus

Santa's Workshop 8K

Santa's Lap

I like to visit Santa Claus
When Christmastime is near.
It's fun to climb up on his lap
And whisper in his ear.

He says, "My dear, have you been good?
Have you done what Mother said you should?
Do you brush your teeth and hair each day?
Are you kind to others when you play?

I listen to each question
And answer every one.
Although I am ashamed to say
I must say no to some.

But Santa never scares me;
He doesn't even scold.
He just says, "Try again, my dear,
You're a fine lad, I am told."

Gee, I like to visit Santa Claus
When Christmastime is near.
It's fun to climb up on his lap
And whisper in his ear...

Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Editorial Page, New York Sun, 1897

Editor: Francis Pharcellus Church

Dear Editor-I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, If you see it in The Sun, it's so.» Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O'Hanlon

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to have men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

Yes, Virginia, It's a Special Occasion

By Rick Horowitz

I want to talk about even bigger anniversary, the 100th anniversary of arguably the most famous editorial ever to appear in a newspaper in this country.

It happened in New York City, where a century ago a Dr. Philip O'Hanlon, coroner's assistant, came face-to-face with a minor family crisis. In 1897, O'Hanlon's daughter - his only child - came to him in some confusion. She'd been talking to her friends, and what she heard from those friends worried her. Could her father help her out?

He did what any father would do under the circumstances: He passed the buck. He suggested she write a letter to the newspaper instead - to The Sun. They'd have an answer she could rely on, he told her.

If you see it in The Sun,» he liked to say, it's so.» So that's what she did: Eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon - yes, Virginia O'Hanlon - sent her letter off to the newspaper.

Now, working at The Sun at that time was a man named Francis Pharcellus Church. He'd been a Civil War correspondent for The New York Times, editor of The Army and Navy Journal, editor of Galaxy literary magazine. He'd been with The Sun for 20 years, and in 1897, he was: an editorial writer.

When Church's boss gave him O'Hanlon's letter, Church was not a happy man. He bristled,» the boss later reported. He pooh-poohed.» And I can't really blame him; editorial writers have better things to do with their time - or so I'm told - than responding to letters from eight-year-olds.

But he did it anyway.

It was no big deal. In fact, the day it ran, it was the seventh editorial on the page - after editorials on state and local and regional politics, on British naval strength in the Atlantic, on plans for a Canadian railroad to help bring back gold from the Yukon. Even after an editorial on a newfangled chainless» bicycle.

But the editorial ran. It ran on September 21, 1897, exactly 100 years ago tomorrow.

And its title was Virginia's very own question: Is There a Santa Claus?»

You may have seen it once or twice...

It's not just the most famous, but the most beloved editorial of all -beloved by readers, and especially beloved by editors. After all, they don't have to write another Christmas piece of their own every year - they can just slap Francis Church and Yes, Virginia» up there and go directly to the office party.

Now, as we mark this special occasion, I ask you not to grieve too much for a time when newspapers had the space - and the staff - to run seven editorials a day. For a time where people still believed, If you see it in the paper, it's so.»

And put aside for a moment the perfectly reasonable question, What's a Christmas editorial doing running in the middle of September?»

Instead, I ask you to join me in celebrating Virginia O'Hanlon, who wrote the letter, and Francis Church, who provided, not just the answer, but a valuable lesson for all of us in this business.

And that lesson is: You never know. You never know which of your efforts will grab people, and which of your words might be headed for immortality.

So, a toast to opinions that last: Yes, Virginia - and Yes, Francis Pharcellus Church - Happy 100th Anniversary!

9/25/97

Stein's Holiday Tongue Twisters

Traditional Christmas Stories and Poems

Christmas Stories

Jan Brett's Christmas Tree Printable

Christmas Sites

Claus.com

North Pole.com

Grinch Activities

Xmas Around the World

The North Pole Times ~ Santa's daily newspaper includes stories, games, Christmas news and a link to e-mail Santa.

Email Santa ~Send your Christmas wish list to Santa, and he will reply personally. Or you can write a letter from your pet to Rudolph. Print out pages to color, see photos of Santa on vacation, play word find games, or vote for who should guide Santa's sleigh

Write Santa -Santa answers all his letter, so check your mailbox!

Christmas Tracker - Countdown to Xmas!

Santa Land - Holiday traditions from around the world

Christmas Play Space - Learn about Christmas and fun stuff

101 Kidz Christmas
E-cards, traditions explained, recipes, crafts and a whole lot more.

Lots of Christmas Fun

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Santa Tracker from NORAD

Christmas Fun