Adapted by Dr. Michael Schuneman, DC from the original poem by Clement Clarke Moore.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when I in my clinic
Had such a stack of paperwork, it made me a cynic;
The stockings were hung by the front desk with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled at home in their beds;
While visions of spines danced in their heads;
And I in my office with files in my lap,
Was hoping soon to finish and have a long winter’s nap,
When out in the parking lot there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the front door I made a mad dash,
Flung open the door quick as a flash.
The moon bright on the new-fallen snow,
Gave a luster to familiar objects I know,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver so hunched and thick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than nerve impulses 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, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the building! 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 rooftop 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.
What an amazing sight! As I ran to the phone,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a groan.
He was dressed all in fur, but he was bent over double,
In spite of his efforts I could see he was in trouble;
With a bundle of toys, such an enormous pack,
He should have lifted with his legs, instead of his back.
His eyes – how they watered! His pain was intense!
His cheeks were flushed, I must act quick, I did sense!
To help him of course, I knew I was able,
And soon he was down on my adjusting table.
I said not a word, but went straight to my work,
There were pops and cracks, but never a jerk.
“Above, down, inside and out,
Innate is flowing!” I said with a shout.
Up from the table he leaped, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed at the change, 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 was quick to get moving for he had work to do
And filled all the stockings and left a present or two.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving his thanks to the chiropractor 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 –
“A chiropractic Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
