  Don't you remember, oh, brother mine! What fun we had at Christmas-time, Out on the old farm, you and I— That home we loved in days gone by? How up in the loft we used to climb For nuts, stored there in autumn-time, To crack and eat by the dear old fire, While the cheerful blaze leaped high'r and high'r? And when it was time to go to bed, How each tired, sleepy little head Was laid on a pillow, soft and white, To dream of Christmas the livelong night? And how in the morn, before 'twas light, Our eyes were opened wide and bright, As we ran a race down the high old stair, To see if "Santa" had been there, And brought his bundle of toys with him, And filled our stockings up to the brim? But dear old "Santa" would always stop And fill them full to the very top. Then we'd away to the old hillside, The country shoemaker's cot beside— Just 'round the corner, near the wood, Where the tall old beech-tree grew and stood. And the snowbirds hopped on its boughs awry As our brand-new sled went whizzing by; And down to the foot of the hill we'd go, Over the crystal Christmas snow. Oh, could life's downward journey be As free from care for you and me; Our hearts be filled with the same glad rays Of those olden, golden Christmas days! When life was so sunny, bright, and new, Oh, brother mine! for me and you. A happier home none ever had Than ours, holding hearts so light and glad. But those happy Christmas days of yore To us will come again no more; For she who chased all our care away Sings a Christmas anthem in heaven to-day. |
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