And then the great nice Christmas tree!
Sometimes I shut my eyes, and see
The house we used to live in.
Oh, mamma dear, it makes you cry;
Don’t dear mamma, for by and by
Like papa, up in heaven,
I’ll be a man; and then I’ll go
And buy it back, before you know;—
And then, on Christmas day
I’ll take you, mamma, there to live.