That was yer little sister—she died a year ago,
An' all of us cried like babies when they laid her under the snow!
Hang it! if all the rich men I ever see or knew
Came here with all their traps, boy, an' offered 'em for you,
I'd show 'em to the door, Sir, so quick they'd think it odd,
Before I'd sell to another my Christmas gift from God!
