Page 74—Santa Claus Land

I have given no Fairy Tales in this Childland. For in this matter-of-fact age belief in Fairy Tales and all kinds of wonderful fictions is fast vanishing. Santa Claus, the "bestest" "goodest" fairy of all alone remains: and even he is gradually being doubted by all but the most innocent children, but as he as a personality is still largely amongst us, I give his popular history culled from many sources.

Santa Claus Land
At the top of the earth, which they call the North Pole,
Is where Santa Claus lives, a right jolly old soul!
And the ice and the snow lie so thick on the ground
The sun cannot melt them the whole summer round.
All wrapped up in furs from his head to his toes,
No feeling of coldness dear Santa Claus knows,
But travels about with a heart full of joy,
As happy as if he were only a boy.
His cheeks are like roses; his eyes are as bright
As stars that shine out overhead in the night,
And they twinkle as merrily too all the while,
And broad as a sunbeam is Santa Claus' smile.
He never is idle except when asleep,
And even in dreams at his labours will keep,
And all thro' the day and the night, it is true,
He is working and planning, dear children, for you.
On top of his tower with spy-glass in hand,
He goes every morning to look o'er the land,
And though there are hills all around, I suppose,
He sees, oh, much further than any one knows.
He peeps into houses whose doors are tight shut;
He looks through the palace, and likewise the hut;
He gazes on cities, and villages small,
And nothing, no, nothing is hidden at all.
He knows where the good children live beyond doubt,
He knows where the bad boys and girls are about,
And writes down their names on a page by themselves;
In a book that he keeps on his library shelves.
For good little children, the gentle and kind,
The prettiest presents of toys are designed,
And when Christmas comes round, as it does once a year,
'Tis certain that Santa Claus then will appear.
His work-shop is, oh! such a wonderful place,
With heaps of gay satins, and ribbons, and lace;
With houses and furniture, dishes and pans,
And bracelets and bangles, and all sorts of fans.
There are horses that gallop, and dollies that walk,
And some of the pretty doll-babies can talk.
There are pop-guns, and marbles, and tops for the boys,
And big drums and trumpets that make a big noise.
There are games for all seasons, the base-ball and kite,
And books which the children will seize with delight,
And the skates and the sleds, far too many to count,
And the bicycles ready for wheelmen to mount.
There are farm-yards in plenty, with fences and trees,
And cows, sheep, and oxen, all taking their ease,
And turkeys and ducks, and fine chickens and hens,
And dear little piggies to put in their pens.
There are gay Noah's Arks, just as full as can be
Of animals, really a wonder to see;
There are lions and tigers, and camels and bears,
And two of each kind, for they travel in pairs.
There are elephants stretching their noses quite long;
And reindeer and elks with their antlers so strong,
And queer kangaroos all the others amid,
With their dear little babies in pockets well hid.
Is Santa Claus happy? There's no need to ask,
For he finds such enjoyment indeed in his task,
That he bubbles with laughter, and whistles and sings,
While making and planning the beautiful things.
He's a jolly good fellow, but ever so shy,
And likes to do all his good deeds on the sly,
So there's no use spoiling a good winter's nap
For you'll not catch a glimpse of the jolly old chap.
When Christmas Eve comes, into bed you must creep,
And late in the night when you are asleep,
He is certain to come; so your stockings prepare,
And hang them up close by the chimney with care.
The baby's wee stockings you must not forget,
For Santa will have something nice for the pet,
And those who are thoughtful for others will find
The good saint at Christmas time has them in mind.
There is Tommy, who tended the baby with care,
A nice train of cars he shall have for his share,
And how happy will Eliza be when she looks
For her presents, and finds such a budget of books.
For dear little Mary, a doll there will be;
And for Alice and Jenny a gay Christmas tree;
And wee little Georgie, the baby, will find
A big stick of candy, just suiting his mind.
Oh, a jolly good sight is this funny old chap
When he's dressed in his bear-skin and fur-bordered cap,
All ready to start on his way through the cold,
In a sleigh covered over with jewels and gold.
While his deer from the mountains all harnessed with care,
Like race-horses prance through the clear frosty air;
'Tis fun just to watch them, and hear the bells ring,
And the stars seem to think it a comical thing.
For old Santa is bundled so close to the chin,
That there is not a chance for the cold to get in,
His cheeks are so rosy, his eyes how they flash!
No horses nor driver e'er cut such a dash!
He cracks his long whip, and he whistles a tune,
While he winks at the stars, and he bows to the moon,
And over the tree-tops he drives like the wind,
And leaves all the night-birds a long way behind.
His steeds speed away on a journey so fleet,
That they seem to have wings to their swift-flying feet,
For there's work to be done by a cheery old man,
And his coursers will help him as well as they can.
His sleigh is with toys and trinkets well packed,
You never beheld one with pleasures so stacked;
And though of good children he has such a list,
Not one is forgotten, not one will be missed.
An army he gives to the boy who is neat,
And never is rude in the house or the street;
And a farm to the lad who goes smiling to school,
Who knows all his lessons and minds every rule.
And if you would please him—dear Bertie and Jack—;
And win a nice prize from the old fellow's pack,
Be good little children, your parents obey,
And strive to be happy at work or at play.
At Christmas old Santa Claus toils like a Turk,
For the cheery old fellow is fond of his work.
With his queer looking team through the air he will go,
And alight on the house-tops all covered in snow.
Then down through the chimneys he'll dart without noise
And fill up the stockings with candy and toys.
There'll be presents for Julia, and Nellie, and Jack,
And plenty more left in the old fellow's pack.
And if Frank behaves well, and minds what is said,
Quits teasing the cat and goes early to bed;
He'll find for his present a sled or a gun,
A ready companion in frolic and fun.
On Santa Claus hurries, and works with a will,
For many tall Christmas trees he has to fill,
And loads them with treasures from out his rich store,
Till they blossom as trees never blossomed before.
Though round as a dumpling, and ever so fat,
In running and climbing he's spry as a cat,
And if the long ladder should happen to break,
And he should fall down, what a crash it would make!
I told you his home was up North by the Pole,
In a palace of hives lives this worthy old soul,
And though out of doors it may furiously storm,
Indoors as we know, it is sunny and warm.
When Christmas is over old Santa Claus goes
To his home in the North, and his well-earned repose,
And when he is rested and feeling tip-top,
The good-natured workman goes back to his shop.
And there he will labor from morning till night,
To make others happy his aim and delight,
And if his good-will the dear children would earn,
They must strive to be happy and good in return.
He comes like an angel of light from above,
To do on the earth sweetest errands of love;
And our hearts and our homes to so fill with good cheer
That we cannot help knowing when Christmas is near.
Then let us be glad, so that Christmas may be
A real Merry Christmas to you and to me!
And now that the story is ended we'll give
Three cheers for old Santa Claus! Long may he live!

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