was the night before Christmas, and all through the ramp, not an aircraft was stirring, not even a Skyhawk;
The navigation lights were hung from the wings with care, in hopes the pilot’s loved ones, soon would be there.
     The pilot was nestled, all snug in his cockpit, while visions of his children, danced in his head.
With my co-pilot in his suit and me in my cap, we had just settled down for a quick cat-nap.
When out on the runway there arose such a clatter, we taxiied away to see what was the matter.
Away to the gate we taxiied with a flash, then turned up the handle and opened the door.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my awaiting eyes should appear, but a small line on the horizon, with four trailing white tails.
With a wonderful pilot, so lively and knowing, I knew in a moment it must be the Boeing.
More rapid than sound, his engines they came, and they whined, and whistled, and howled.
“To the end of the runway!  To the touch down threshold!  Now gear down! Flaps down!  Flaps down all!”
As dry leaves that before a hurricane fly, when it meets with an obstacle, soar into the sky.
So up to the runway, the airplane it flew, with many family and friends, and some baggage too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the runway, the touchdown and suspension of each part of the gear.
As I got back in the plane and was turning her on, down the taxiway the jet came on the ground.
The pilot was dressed in his suit, from his cap to his shoes, and his clothes were not tarnished, not even with sweat.
Everyone’s family and friends were waiting in class, and he looked like a pro talking to the air traffic control.
His eyes – how they twinkled!  His grin how merry!  His cheeks were like roses and his cap like a berry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and his suit was a pure white as snow.
The handle of the throttle he held tight in his hand, and the way the plane drifted was as soft as sand.
The plane had a broad nose and a large long belly, that shook on a large bump like a bowl full of jelly.
He was tall and stout, the jolly old guy, and I smiled when I saw him, I tell you no lie.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word and went right to his work, pulling into the gate, turning with a jerk.
And stopping on the spot to end his mission, the jetway started to move to it’s wonderful position.
He shut down the engines and climbed out of the cockpit, and into a service vehicle he went to sit.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,