Unca John comes in to da Orphan kit's hawse dwessed in hims Sandy Paws soot.
"Gahfur round widdle kitlins, I gonna meow da poem Da Nite Befur Kitmas' and den I gots pwesents fur eech one ob yu. Careful now and don't spill yur hot chocorat!"
Da Nite Befur Kitmas
Twas da nite befur Kitmas
and all fru da hawse,
Not a kreeture was stirring
not ebin a mouse.
Da stockings were hung
by da chimney wiff care,
Eggspekting dat Sandy Paws
soon wood be dere.
Da kittens were tucked in
aww snug in dere beds,
and visions ob catnip toys
danced in dere heds.
Mama in hur nite gown
and me in my cap,
had just settled down
fur a long winter nap.
Wen out by da porch
dere arose such a clatter,
I sprang frum my bed
to see wat was da matter.
Up on da winnow sill
I pounced in a flash,
and down came da curtains
and rods wiff a crash!
Da moonlite shone brite
on da new fallen snow,
and made efuryfing stand out
quite cleerly below.
Wen, wait! My eye caught
sumfing coming more neer,
A miniture sleigh wiff
eight tiny ranedeer!
Da widdle old dwiver
so lifely and dandy,
I knew in a minnit,
Wow, dis must be Sandy!
Faster den cheetahs
his raindeer dey came,
and hims purred quite loudly
and meowed dere name.
Now Cathy, now Poucette,
Now Lynsi and Tita.
On Sparkle, on Bailey,
also Zade and on Rita.
To da top ob da cat twee,
and pounce on dat ball.
Now prance away, prance away
prance away all!
As dwy leefs dat we chase
wen da wind blows dem by,
and swirling dey head
rite up to da sky.
So up to da hawse-top
da widdle team flew,
wiff a sleigh full ob toys
and Sandy Paws too!
...to be continued
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