Classic Poem

'Twas Christmas Eve, the month was May,
She wore her father's gown;
The reins beyond the horses lay,
The sleigh was upside down.

They sped across the boiling snow,
Above the sun's cold glare;
The little birds, above, below,
Were walking through the air.

The jangling sleigh-bells made no sound,
The horses backward flew;
The cows were lowing underground,
The trees all downward grew.

'Twas high noon, and the moonbeams played,
The clouds to dust all ran;
He was a winsome, pretty maid,
She was a big, strong man.

He softly said, yet did not speak:
" I hate you! Marry me. "
She laughed, as tears ran down her cheek:
" I love you. No! " said she.

This sad event, which is, or was,
Or may be, must appall!
I know it happened, just because
I was not there at all.