"'When ghosts return to walk with men,
We'll bring 'em cheap by steam, and fast:
We'll run a branch to heaven! and then
We'll riot, man; for then, at last,
"'We'll make with heaven a contract fair
To call each hour, from town to town,
And carry the dead folks' souls up there,
And bring the unborn babies down!'
"The plan seemed fair: I gave him cash,
Nay every penny I could raise.
My wife e'er cried, ''Tis rash, 'tis rash:'
How could I know the stock-thief's ways?
"But soon I learned full well, poor fool!
My woes began that wretched day.
The President plied me like a tool,
In lawyer's fees, and rights of way,
"Injunctions, leases, charters, I
Was meshed as in a mighty maze;
The stock ran low, the talk ran high,
Then quickly flamed the final blaze.
"With never an inch of track—'tis true!
The debts were large ... the oft-told tale.
The President rolled in splendor new,
—He bought my silver at the sale.
"Yes, sold me out: we've moved away.
I've had to give up everything;
My reindeer, even, whom I ... pray,
Excuse me" ... here, o'er-sorrowing,
Poor Santa Claus burst into tears,
Then calmed again: "My reindeer fleet,
I gave them up: on foot, my dears,
I now must plod through snow and sleet.
"Retrenchment rules in Elfland, now;
Yes, every luxury is cut off,
—Which, by the way, reminds me how
I caught this dreadful hacking cough:
"I cut off the tail of my Ulster furred
To make young Kris a coat of state
That very night the storm occurred!
Thus we become the sport of Fate.