  “Mamma dear, I am so sleepy; will good Santy truly come With a bang-er-bang, a ’teamer, and a ball, a kite, a drum? I just awesul want a rainbow for whenever papa’s late, We could wave it from the window and he would not miss the gate. Would he carve a baby city from a tiny bit of ice? Have a lot of ’tores, and turches, and a sun, and moon, and ’tars, With the dearest, sweetest station, for my toot-er-tooting cars? Hang a ’tocking over yonder; clear the corner for the toys, Then just write a line to tell him I’m the very best of boys; And, oh mamma, when you write it, write it bid so he can hear, For he didn’t see our chimney as he hurried by last year; Oh, I should be dreadful sorry if to-night he passed again, So be careful, mamma darling, and be sure and write it plain. Pin it close beside the mantle where he cannot fail to see, Tissmas is so long in coming to a little chap like me.” |
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