A Christmas Story T’was the night before Christmas, And all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, Not even a mouse. The stockings were hung, By the chimney with care, In the hopes that St. Nicholas, Soon would be there. The children were nestled, All snug in their beds, While visions of sugerplumbs, Danced in their heads. Ma in her kerchief, And I in my cap, Had just settled down our brains, For a long winter’s nap. When out on the lawn, There arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed, To see what was the matter. Away to the window, I fiew like a flash, Tore open the shutter, And threw up the sash. The moon on the breast, Of the new fallen snow, Gave luster of midday, To objects below. When what to my wondering, Eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, And eight timy reindeer. With a little old driver, So lively and quick, I knew in a moment, It must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles, His coursers they came, And he whistled and shouted And called them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer, Now Prancer and Vixen, On Commet, on Cupid, On Donner and Blitzen. To the top of the porch, To the top of the wall, Now dash away, dash away, Dash away all. As dry leaves before A wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, Mount to the sky. So up to the housetop, The coursers they flew, With a sleigh full of toys, And St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing, Of each little hoof. And as I drew in my head, And was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas, Came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, From his head to his foot, His clothes were all tarnished, With ashes and soot. A bundle of toys, He had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack. His eyes how they twinkled, His dimples how merry, His cheeks were like roses, His nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth, Was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin, Was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe, He held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it incircled, His head like a reef. He had a broad face, And a little round belly, - That shook when he laughed, _(CGA wo If you're interested in the chal- lenging and rewarding field of accounting, you want to be sure that you have that some- thing extra. The CGA course of studies is an advanced ac- counting education program. CGA is Canada’s first profes- sional accounting designation to fully integrate computer technology into its program of studies. Choose your courses wisely and you will obtain your profes- sional designation soon after graduation. To find out more about Canada’s most innovative and fastest growing source of ac- counting professionals con- FA1 Accounting EC2 Economics ME1 Managerial Math & Econ OM2 Quantitative Methods FA2 Accounting FA3 Accounting MAI Cost Accounting tact: CGA Atlantic Region. Educational Association, P.O. Box.5100, 236 St. George Street, Moncton, N.B., E1C 8R2. Or phone (506) 857-2204. FN1 Financial Mgmt MS1 Mgmt Info Systems AU1 Auditing 1 Be on the cutting edge of Accounting. Study to be a CGA. — University of P.E.I. Equivalent courses 201 & 202 Accounting 102 Macroeconomics 101 Microeconomics & 221 Statistics 221 Statistics & 252 Quantitative Methods 301 & 302 Accounting 300. Accounting 411 Cost Accounting I & 412 Cost Accounting II 331 Financial Management I & 332 Financial Management II 101 Introduction to Computers 202 Information Systems 400 Auditing Then laying his finger, Aside of his nose, And giving’a nod, Up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, To his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew, Like the dawn of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, As he drove out of sight, Happy Christmas to all, And to all a good night! like a bow! full of jelly. He was chubby and plumb, A right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, In spite of myself. A wink of his eye, And a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, But went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, Then turned with a jerk. ~ ee ee ee ee eee The Traveller i first saw you oppressed by surrounding egos smilingly you chatted i wanted the escape of winter so we walked to see the owls hidden in crags and hills of snow _ finally they emerged impossibilities became realities we stayed in the salt—box house woodstove to warm us feather bed above kitchen heat outhouse pathway through yellow grasses you left in the spring your purple socks remained an i now a traviler told to others on your journeys if we meet again it will be on spice scented coasts i singed flesh from Madagascar you dusty with Mediterranean adventures’ we shall hunt antillean shells instead of snowy owls ea ata ee, Be es SS Sa a bho SS Oe OS a 1 Ae 4 04 4 86 6 66 OS 0 AAG 48 O86 4S SS Oe BS A AOS SO SE SS ee ot oP