Upstate NY: Mock trial for 'Twas The Night Before Christmas'

First lady Michelle Obama reads “Twas The Night Before Christmas” with muppet Abby Cadabby to children on stage during the 2013 National Christmas Tree Lighting ceremony at the Ellipse near teh White House in Washington, Friday, Dec. 6, 2013. (AP Photo/Carolyn Kaster)
First lady Michelle Obama reads “Twas The Night Before Christmas” with muppet Abby Cadabby to children on stage during the 2013 National Christmas Tree Lighting ceremony at the Ellipse near the White House in Washington, Friday, Dec. 6, 2013. (AP Photo/Carolyn Kaster)

TROY, N.Y. (AP) — It’s a controversy whose roots trace back nearly two centuries to a holiday poem first published in an upstate New York newspaper: Who really wrote “A Visit from St. Nicholas”?
This week, a mock trial will be held in a courtroom in Troy, where the now-classic also known as “The Night Before Christmas” was first published anonymously in the Sentinel newspaper on Dec. 23, 1823.
The Daily Gazette of Schenectady reports (https://bit.ly/1fyrF24 ) that Wednesday’s trial will have a prominent local lawyer representing Clement Clark Moore, a wealthy scholar from New York City who’s credited with writing the poem.
Other attorneys will argue the side of Henry Livingston Jr., whose descendants claim the gentleman farmer from the Hudson Valley was the true author.
Actors portraying Moore and Livingston will take the stand during the courtroom showdown.
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Information from: The Daily Gazette, https://www.dailygazette.com/
 

A Visit from St. Nicholas

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;
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 our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my 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 a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he 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 Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop 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 head, 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 pedler 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 on 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 bowl full 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!”
Source: The Random House Book of Poetry for Children (Random House Inc., 1983)

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