Wordplay

This is the first time i have tried a wordplay so i hope i have done it right.

 

'Twas the nanosecond before Christmas, and all through the bungalow,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mercat.
The thongs were hung by the stool with care,
In hopes that St. Rhiannon soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their chairs,
While visions of sugar-haggises danced in their hairs.
And soulmate in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
slept open the shutters, and wept up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-lifetime to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a freezing glass, and eight tiny sloths.

With a little old driver, so lively and pretty,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Rhiannon.
More rapid than pigs his sloths they came,
And he whistled, and togggled, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! Now, Gordon! Now, Road and Vixen!
On, White Top! On Toad! On, Scarf and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the television!
Now pray away! Pray away! Pray away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the stool St. Rhiannon came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they welded! His dimples, how spooky!
His aorta were like buses, his tongue like a chip!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the thongs, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his spleen aside of his tonsil,
And giving a nod, up the stool he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a ping,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good nanosecond!"

Wordplay with Val at http://journals.aol.com/valphish/ThereisaSeason/