The Giant and the Star :: :: University of Virginia Library

Christmas is just one week off,
And Old Santa's in the house;
In the attic heard a cough
Th' other day when not a mouse
Nor a rat, I know, was there.
Mother said, “You'd better be
Good, or else, I do declare!
There won't be a Christmas-tree.”

Christmas is next week. And I'm
So excited!—In the night
Hardly ever sleep. One time
Woke and heard strange footsteps, right
In the hall, go down the stair;
When I cried to mother, she
Said, “Lie down, now! I declare
If you don't—no Christmas-tree.”

Yes; next week is Christmas. And
I heard some one laughing sure,
Low, half smothered by a hand,
In the parlor where the door

'S always locked and, my! my hair
Fairly crept. And suddenly
Heard a hoarse voice say, “Take care!
Or you'll get no Christmas-tree.”

Mother was a-lying down;
'T was n't she. And then the cook
And my nurse had gone in town.
Father, he was at a book.—
Must have been Old Santa there
Just a-lying low to see
If I'm good or—I declare!—
Trimming up my Christmas-tree.

One night, huh! the kitchen door
Banged wide open. 'T was n't wind.
And three knocks, or was it four?
Shook the window.—I just skinned
Out of there and up the stair
Where my mother was; and she
Smiled, “'T was Santa, I'll declare!
Bringing in your Christmas-tree.”

And I never pout or cry
When I have to go to bed;
Just get in my gown and lie
Quiet; listening for the tread

Of a foot upon the stair,
Or a voice—it seems to me
Santa's—saying, “I declare,
It's a lovely Christmas-tree!”

Every one just walks the chalk
Now it's near to Christmas. Yes,
I'm as careful in my talk
As a boy could be, I guess:
“For Old Santa's everywhere,”
Mother says mysteriously,
“And, unless you're good, 'declare
You won't have a Christmas-tree.”