  The Santa Claus boy is the latest thing out; He's the rage of the season, they say, And wherever you wander, you'll find him about With his beautiful, dutiful way; He's as spick and as span as a dandified man. And his look is a heavenly joy; And however he does it, whatever his plan, We know he's the Santa Claus boy! He jumps out of bed in the morning himself, And he never lies still for the rest; He dresses in haste with the skill of an elf, And he washes and combs with the best; He does up the chores while his small sister snores, And his whistle no longer annoys; He's the pride of the house and the king of out-doors,— This wonderful Santa Claus boy! He hastens to school with a heart full of glees, And he never turns truant to play: He recites in a beautiful way; And the teacher's so glad that the boy who was bad All his failings has learned to destroy; And she smiles with delight as she breaks up her gad, At the change in the Santa Claus boy! When the Sabbath day comes with its Sunday School hours, He is never once absent or late; And the verses he speaks beat the memory powers Of the sages exalted and great; But he dreams of a Tree, full of presents to be, And with treasures that know not alloy; And the vision he sees fills his bosom with glee For the Sunday School Santa Claus boy! Ah, well, this old codger laid up on the shelf, In the rubbish piled high on life's ways, He has romped through the Santa Claus days; Whatever appears, whether laughter or tears, Let a song every moment employ, As the world tosses gifts through the beautiful years To the glad-hearted Santa Claus boy! |
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