Christmas Eve gift

What a wonderful Christmas gift, for the first time in almost a month I awoke without coughing. I think I might just live and have enough energy to make our Christmas meal tomorrow.
There is one Christmas Eve ritual I will miss this year. None of our children or grandchildren are coming to visit for the holidays so I won’t be reading out loud Clement C. Moore’s famous poem, A Visit From St. Nicholas.
The children and the grandchildren always enjoyed the poem with a good old Cajun accent. What follows is a re-enactment of the telling around the Upchurch homestead. My apologies to Mr. Moore.
"Twas da night afore Christmas when all tru da house
Not a creature was stirring not even Fifi da mouse.
Da stockins were hung by da chimney with care,
In hope dat Sait Niclas soon would be dere.
Da chilren were nested all snug in dere teenie tiny beds,
While dreams of sugarplums danced in dere wee little bittie heads,
Mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled in for a long winter’s nap.
When out in da swamp dere rose up such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to look see what was da matter.
Away to da window I flew like a flash,
Tore open da storm shutters and trew up da sash.
Da moon on the breast of da arpents of swamp,
Gave a luster of midday to objects below,
When, what to my wondrin eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight teenie tiny reindeer;
With a little ole driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid dan eagles his coursers dey came,
An he whistled and shouted, called dem by name:
‘Now, Dasher, now, Dancer, now, Prancer and Vixen.
On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen.
To da top of da porch, to da top of da wall.
Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all.’
As dry leaves afore the wild Hurricane Betsy did fly,
When dey met with an obstacle, mounted to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers dey flew
With a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas, too.
An den in a twinkle, I heard on da roof
The prancin and pawin of each little tiny hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was trunin aroun,
Down da chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
An his clothes dey were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
An he looked like a peddler jus opnin his pack.
His eyes how dey twinkled, his dimples how merry.
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.
His droll little bitty mouth was drawn up like a bow,
An da beard of his chin was as white as an egret.
Da stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
An da smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of Mamma’s jelly.
He was chubby and plumb, a right jolly ole elf.
An I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had notin to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
An filed all the stockins; then turned with a jerk,
An layin his finger aside a his nose,
An givin a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
An away dey all flew like da down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
‘Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.’"