| All roun' his dy-fram," Uncle say.— "But Pa he'd ort a-seen the way Santy bear up last night when that- Air fire break out, an' quicker'n scat He's all a-blazin', an' them-'air Gun-cotton whiskers that he wear Ist flashin'!—till I burn a hole In the snow with him, and he roll The front-yard dry as Chris'mus jokes Old parents plays on little folks! But, long's a smell o' tow er wool, I kep' him rollin' beautiful!— |
| [!--IMG--] Till I wuz shore I shorely see He's squenched! W'y, hadn't b'en fer me, That old man might a-burnt clear down Clean—plum'—level with the groun'!" |
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Nen Ma say, "There, Sid; that'll do!—
Breakfast is ready—Chris'mus, too.—
Your voice 'ud soun' best, sayin' Grace—
Say it." An' Uncle bow' his face
An' say so long a Blessing nen,
Trip bark' two times 'fore it's "A-men!"
[!--IMG--]
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