‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the town, Not a snowflake was falling, just clouds hanging down. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that Jack Frost soon would be there. But alas, instead of the white stuff we desire, We got clouds and mist, no snow to inspire. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of snowflakes danced in their…