'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Burkina Faso not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Steve Parsons would soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of up grades, the dfs,and tijirit drill danced in their heads. And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below, when, what to my wondering eyes should appear
add your ending..............
GRY Price at posting:
56.0¢ Sentiment: Hold Disclosure: Held
