The children were nestled all snug in their futon,
While danced through their heads dreams of Mochi and udon;
And Mama in her yukata and I in fundoshi..
Had just settled our heads to sleep a sukoshi

When the passage of something across the roof shingles,
Raised a noise that I knew just must be Chris Kringle's;
Hayaku I raced to open the shoji;
Tore open the amado, looked out and ... Oh, Gee!

The tsuki on the breast of the new fallen yuki
Gave the luster of midday and made things look spooky�?
When, from the neon-lit smog should come scooting,
But a miniature rikisha and eight coolies pulling.

With a little old driver, so lively and jozu
I knew in a moment it must be Santa Kurosu.
More hayaku than kogatas his coolies, they ran
With takusan presento - and St. Nick, the toy man.

Now Speedy-san! now, Odori-ko! now Pakka-pakka and Inari.
On Comet-to. On Cupid-ko! on Kaminari and Inabikari!
To the top of the genkan! to the top of the tiles..
Now, dash away! dash away! we've many more miles.

As momiji that before the wild typhoon fly,
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky,
So up to the roof the wee rickisha flits,
With takusan new toys, 'pon which Santa Kurosu sits.

And then, bikkuri, I heard on the top story,
The scraping and sliding of each little zori.
As I drew in my head and hitched up my drawers
Down the ofuro pipe came old Santa Kurosu.

All of good fur was made his red mompei,
And his clothes were all tarnished and ashy and grey!
A furoshiki of toys hung over his arm,
And he looked like a peddlar from Mart Ginzakan;

His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples, how kawaii
His beard wiggled like a grass skirt from far off Hawaii;
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a mikan,
His mouth wore a smile like O-Kame-san.

The stub of a Shinsei was tight in his fist,
And the smoke, it encircled him like Kyoto mist.
He had a broad face, and well rounded bloomers,
That rolled when he laughed like bouncing Darumas.

He was chubby and plump; a right jolly old Tengu;
And I laughed, when I saw him; that's all I could do.
>A twist of his head and a twink of his eye,
Soon gave me to know that I had no shimpai.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to shigoto,
And filled all his tabi - yada! then ready to go,
And holding his hana with a fur-covered mitt,
And giving a "saah", up the stove pipe he flit.