One snowy eve, in days of yore, When Christmas cheer knocked at every door, Santa prepared for his usual flight, But his reindeer fell ill that frosty night. With noses red, but not from glee, They sniffled and sneezed under the fir tree. “Oh, what to do?” Santa sighed, For Christmas joy could not be denied. Through the barn, he cast his gaze, And there stood steeds in the moonlight’s haze. Majestic, strong, with coats of sheen, Their eyes like stars in a wintry scene. “Horses,” said Santa, “You