Stiffly stark and still they stood,
Clad in elfish clothes;
Some were wax, and some were wood,
One had crushed his nose.
"Playthings rare," he said and smiled,
"For children rich and poor;
Some I'll leave the crippled child,
And some at the orphan's door."
He shook his reins, and called his steed
To bear him swiftly on.
Full well it knew its Master's need
To hurry e'er the dawn.
From house to house they scampered down,
Their sleigh-bells ringing clear,
Through chimneys in the sleepy town—
Good Kris and his reindeer.
