Pore-folks lives at Lonesomeville— Lawzy! but they’re pore! Houses with no winders in, And hardly any door: Chimbly all tore down, and no Smoke in that at all— Ist a stovepipe through a hole In the kitchen-wall! Pump ’at’s got no handle on; And no woodshed—And, wooh!— Mighty cold there, choppin’ wood, Like pore-folks has to do!— Winter-time, and snow and sleet Ist fairly fit to kill!— Hope to goodness Santy Claus |