'Twas the night before the Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The prisoners were tied up by the fireplace with care,
In hopes that the Christmas Fade soon would fill them with fear;

The children were already chased off to their beds,
While visions of world domination danced in their heads;
And mamma with her dagger, and I with my sack,
Had just settled down for some rituals so black,

When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the magic circle to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I stomped with a crash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave a sense of impending doom to the village below,
When over the graveyard’s tombs and mounds,
came a fearful black sleigh and eight darkhounds,

With a black-shrouded driver, who made me so afraid
I knew in a moment it must be the Christmas Fade.
More rapid than vultures his coursers they came,
And he cackled, and howled, and called them by name;

"Now, KILLER! now, SLASHER ! now, EVIL and DROOLER!
On, JACKAL! on DEVIL! on, DEMON and CRUELER!
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 Hunt they fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the darkhounds they flew,
With the sleigh full of torture devices, and the Christmas Fade too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The scratching and snarling of each fearful ghoul.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the Christmas Fade came with a bound.

He was dressed all in black, from his eye-less head to his foot,
So it hardly mattered that he was all covered with soot;
A bundle of trinkets he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a torturer just opening his sack.

His eyeless gazes -- how it filled me with terror!
There was not much doubt this was Aginor’s error!
His blood-less lips were drawn up like a bow,
And the entire face was as white as the snow;

The cruelest of swords he held in his hands,
it made me think of Tharkandar as tall as it stands;
He had a narrow face and was as thin as a stick,
He had a mocking smile and his thin lips did lick.

He was a vile any grave robber, a right evil old fade,
And I cowered where I was: who wouldn’t be afraid?
A gaze from that face and a twist of his head,
Soon confirmed that he was something to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And scared the pants off the prisoners, especially that Whitecloak jerk,
Having scared them some more and threatened with a noose,
He withdrew to the darkest corner and faded up to the roof;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he faded in the night,
"FEARFUL CHRISTMAS TO ALL, MAY YOU WITHER IN THE BLIGHT!"