But mother must have a Christmas gift;
O dear! who’ll give a fellow a lift?
Dear mamma! her hair is pretty and brown,
And her smile so sweet, with never a frown.
I’ll get her something, I will! I will!
But how’ll I get it’s the question still.
I know!—I’ve got such a splendid plan;
’Tis good enough for a grown-up man.
I think my present will be just grand;
’Tis this: I’ll write, in my nicest hand,