’Twas the night before Christmas and the county of Centre was all asnooze waiting for Santa to enter.
On Front Street in Philipsburg lights were aglow as kids waited — hoping for Christmas Eve snow.
The Rowland was darkened. No movies were playing. Each church echoed softly with singing and praying.
The Simler House welcomed another yule season and Trinity’s painted display showed the reason.
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From Hope and Reliance, firemen closely listen. They hope for a silent night watching lights glisten.
And opening presents with family and friends, laughing and joking, no fires to tend.
At Cold Stream, the water is silent and dark and Big Santa stands guard in the moonlit park.
Then quickly as if he was shot from a cannon, the real Santa flew in straight from Black Moshannon.
I knew it was him. He looked just like Paul Springer. You could hear him for miles. He’s quite a good singer.
He drove up Presqueisle and toward Chester Hill. He was speedy. He had lots of stockings to fill.
First Slabtown and Curtis Park and Point Lookout. On to Osceola and Sandy Ridge now.
He stopped for some cookies (he likes nut rolls best) then swung toward Bald Eagle. He’d no time to rest.
But I heard him exclaim, before he flew out of sight—
“Merry Christmas, Mo Valley, and to all a good night!”
(Apologies to Clement C. Moore, and wishes for a great holiday to everyone in Centre County.)