Luyện nghe bài hát T was the night before Christmas

That's not a song, but a Christmas tale by Clement Clark Moore
(1748-1828)
Special appearances: Taylor-Ann and Hasselhoff

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all the house
Not a was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the with care,
In hopes St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of danced in their heads
And in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose a clatter,
I from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew a flash,
Tore the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the snow
Gave the of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes appear,
But a sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called by name;

"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers flew,
With the sleigh of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I on the roof
The prancing and of each little hoof.
As I in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came a bound.

He was all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished ashes and soot;
A bundle of he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a just opening his pack.

His -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little belly,
shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in of myself;
A of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had to dread;

He spoke not a word, but straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; turned with a jerk,
And his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the he rose;

He cross the street, who maybe poll freedom,
And away all flow like the dark of a kingdom.
But I him exclaim, here he drove out of sight,
Christmas to all, and to all a good-night"

(We wish you a Christmas...)