The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snowGave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-men,With a livly young driver, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be St. SexolasMore rapid than eagles her coursers they came,And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;"Now, STRIPER! now, DANCER! now, VOYER and VIXEN!On, CUMET! on CUPID! on, POUNDHER and BLITZEN!To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,With the sleigh full of sex toys, and St. Sexolas too.And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roofThe prancing and pawing of each little hoof.As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,Down the chimney St. Sexolas came with a bound.She was dressed all in leather, from her head to her foot,And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;A bundle of sex toys she had flung on her back,And she looked like a peddler just opening her pack.Her eyes -- how they twinkled! her dimples how merry!Her cheeks were like roses, her tits like cherries!Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,And the beard of her pussy was as white as the snow;The stump of a pipe she held tight in her teeth,And the smoke it encircled her head like a wreath;She had a broad face and two big, busty round breasts,That shook, when she laughed like a bowlfuls of jelly.