Twas The Night B’fore Christmas

Something new and strange entered my home lately, and it came from my daughters elementary school library. Its a version of Twas The Night Before Christmas I never knew existed. An African American Version is what it say’s and as I opened it and began to read it to my daughter I was blown away. The entire poem is different and it’s supposed to be a version overheard by slaves while they worked in the “Big house” and then retold to there children.

I’m not really sure I want to express my opinion on this piece of literature but I will print a portion of it here so you can either run out and get yourself a copy or not.

As I pulled in my head an’ had turnt myself ’round,
Glory be! Down the chimney he came wit’ a bound!
His getup had possum fur, head clear to foot,
An’ his suit was all blackened wit’ ashes an’ soot.
A big quilt-wrapped bundle he’d flung ‘cross his back,
An’ he looked like a conjure man openin’ his sack.

Oh, my! How his eyes shone like coals lit white hot!
His cheeks puffed like bread puddin’ baked in a pot.
Wit’ his cotton-white hair peekin’ out from his cap,
An’ skin like molasses, he looked jus’ like my Pap!
He was jumpin’, an’ a-hoppin’- doin’ the pigeonwing-
An’ I tried not to laugh when he started to sing.
An ol’ corncob pipe he gripped ‘twixt his teeth,
An’ smoke circled his head like a Georgia pine wreath.