Z!H - The Night Before Christmas
Top Talent
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC) North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
It was 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 sink. Nicholas soon would be there. The Children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads and mama in her kerchief and done in my camp and just settled our brains for a long winter's nap went out on the lawn. There arose such a clatter. I spring 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 in the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of mid day to objects blue when factor, my wondering eyes should appear. But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer with a little 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 my name. Now Dasher, now dancer, now Prancer and vixen on Comet on Cupid on Dunder and Blixen 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 on the sky. So up the house top the coursers. They flew with a 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 a drew in my head and was turning around down the chimney. ST Nicholas came with 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 was flung on his Mac, and he looked like a peddler, just opening his back. 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 bowl. On the beard of his chin was his 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 in a little round belly that shook when he laughed like comport full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I have to. 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 and then turned with a jerk and laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney. He rose. He sprung to his sleigh to his team, gave a whistle and the way they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim that he drove out of sect Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.