CHRISTMAS DAY
Sweet lady, ’t is no troubadour
That sings so sweetly at your door,
To tell you of the joys in store—
So grand and gay;
But one that sings “Remember t’ poor,
’Tis Christmas Day.”
Within some gloomy walls to-day
Just cheer the looks of hoary gray,
And try to smooth their rugged way
With cheerful glow;
And cheer the widow’s heart, I pray,
Crushed down with woe.
O! make the weary spent-up glad,
And cheer the orphan lass and lad;
Make frailty’s heart, so long, long sad,
Your kindness feel;
And make old crazy-bones stark mad
To dance a reel.
Then, peace and plenty be your lot,
And may your deed ne’er be forgot
That helps the widow in her cot
Out of your store;
Nor creed, nor seed, should matter not—
The poor are poor.
[The End]