OMETIMES it enters my wife’s head,
When we have just a bit of leisure,
To take a little ride for pleasure.
’Tis then when sounds the sleigh bell’s jingle,
And the frost makes ears and noses tingle,
She coolly calls me ‘Sir Kriss Kringle.’”
Copyrighted, 1897.
HEN Sunday comes, with pious thought
We go to church, there to be taught
The way to live, our duties plain.
’Tis then with sober look, and mein,
As down the aisle we, solemn, pass,
She whispers low, ‘St. Nicholas.’”
Copyrighted, 1897.