 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
44
TIMOTHY TOYLESS
With marks of tears upon his cheeks,
Timothy Toyless lay
An hour or two before the dawn
Of holy Christmas Day.
His hair was rough, his bed was rough,
And rough his little shirt.
The only watchers in the room
Were Poverty and Dirt.
Timothy Toyless lay
An hour or two before the dawn
Of holy Christmas Day.
His hair was rough, his bed was rough,
And rough his little shirt.
The only watchers in the room
Were Poverty and Dirt.
While these were sitting hand in hand,
There suddenly appeared
An old and rosy gentleman
With half a yard of beard!
His hair was white, his face was broad,
His mantle it was red.
“Is Timothy Toyless sleeping here,
Miss Poverty?” he said.
There suddenly appeared
An old and rosy gentleman
With half a yard of beard!
His hair was white, his face was broad,
His mantle it was red.
“Is Timothy Toyless sleeping here,
Miss Poverty?” he said.
She nodded to the Visitor,
Who put his bundle down
And took a scarlet humming-top
From underneath his gown.
He laid it on the bed, and passed
In silence through the door;
And Timothy Toyless thereupon
Was Toyless Tim no more!
Who put his bundle down
And took a scarlet humming-top
From underneath his gown.
He laid it on the bed, and passed
In silence through the door;
And Timothy Toyless thereupon
Was Toyless Tim no more!
| A merry-go-round of song | |