They were passing the time as they might, but ever their thoughts turned home.
Said the Man from the East, “In God’s country now (where we’d all like to be),
You may bet your life there’s a big boom on for the Christmas Tree;
And we’d have one here, but there isn’t a shrub as high as my hand,
Nor the smell of spruce, for a hundred miles, in all this land!”
Then the Man from the South arose: “I allow, if the Tree could be found,
I’d ’tend to the fruit myself, and stand ye a treat all round!”
“Done!” said the Man from the West (the youngest of all was he).
“I’ll lose my claim in the ruby sand—or I’ll find the Tree!”
The restless Aurora is waving her banners wide through the dome,