The Flight Before Christmas

Andrew had to work (he is a pilot for Delta) on Christmas Eve night and again on Christmas Morning. During those flights he read this over the PA.

The Flight Before Christmas


‘Twas the flight before Christmas and all through the sky,
Not a creature was stirring except Captain and I.
The throttles were set on the quadrant with care,
In hopes of beating St. Nicholas there.

The passengers nestled all snug in their seats,
The purr of the engines had lulled them to sleep.
The Cap’ at the wheel and I on his right
Had just leveled off for a long winter’s flight.

When out in the sky there arose such a clatter
We sat up in our seats to see what was the matter.
We checked out each engine as quick as a flash,
And glanced at the dials all over the dash.

The moonlight reflecting from the cloud bank below,
Showed nothing amiss in the cold winter’s glow.
When what to our wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old pilot so lively and quick
We knew in a minute it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than our ship his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name,

“Now Pratt and now Whitney, now Curtis and Wright,
On Rolls Royce and Allison, On through the night.
To the top of the clouds – to the top of them all
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.”

Then in a twinkle on or wing we did hear
The prancing and pawing of each little deer.
More swift than the wind flashing over the clouds,
They past right on by as they nodded and bowed.

St. Nick was in goggles and helmet and boots,
The snowflakes were clinging to his red flying suit.
A bundle of toys was strapped to his back
And he looked like a ‘chutist in full jumping pack.

His goggles were frosty, his dimples were merry
The wind burned his cheeks, his nose like a cherry.
The beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
He was flying on course as straight as a crow.

The smoke from the pipe in his teeth held tight
Streamed out below him far into the night.
He had tightened his seatbelt over his belly,
But it shook underneath like a bowl full of Jelly.

He was sure a good flyer, that jolly old elf,
He flew better than Captain, or even myself.
With a new burst of speed from his tiny sled
He was right out in front and pulling ahead.

He was seeking a break in the dense overcast,
For he’d stockings to fill, an all-night-long task.
When off to the south he saw a big hole,
And banking to starboard he started to roll.

His stick he pushed forward, to this team gave a whistle
And toward it he flew like an air to ground missile.
But we heard him cry out as he dove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”