The cunning Moon looked on and laughed
With a shrill and sneering jibe;
Her soul grew fat to see them chaffed,
This mad and elfish tribe.
The big black caldron boiled so high
With food for these queer mites,
That it lit the world throughout the sky,
And down came all the Sprites.
Their mad career upset a star,
As through the air they flew:
It cringed in fear, and shot afar,
And fell where no one knew.
Orion's sword was broke in bits,
Corona's crown was gone,
Capella seemed to lose her wits,
While all so longed for dawn.
Then from the night there came a sound
Of sleigh-bells ringing sweet;
Out of the chaos came a man—
Kris Kringle—for his Christmas treat.
"Ho! Kris!" they cried, "We'll have some fun,
We'll bind the old man down,
We'll tie him up, and toss him o'er
Into our Goblin-town."