And Santa Claus went with his wonderful load
Through street after street, and through road after road,
And crept through the keyholes--or some other way;
He got down the chimneys--so some people say:
But, one way or other, he managed to creep
Where all the good children were lying asleep;
And when he got there, all the stockings in rows
That were ready hung up he cramm'd full to the toes
With the many good things he had brought with the day
From over the hills and far away.
And Santa Claus smiled as he look'd on the faces
Of all the good children asleep in their places,
And laugh'd out so loud as to almost awaken
One sharp little fellow who great pains had taken;
His socks were too small--for he'd hopes of great riches--
So, tying the legs, he had hung up his breeches!
And surely the tears almost came in his eyes
As he open'd a letter with joy and surprise
That he took from a stocking hung up to a bed,
And surely they fell as the letter he read;
'Twas a little girl's hand, and said, "Dear Santer Claws,
Don't fordit baby's sox--they's hung up to the drors."
But wasn't there laughter and shouting and noise
From the boys and the girls, and the girls and the boys,
When they counted the good things the good Saint had brought
them,
And laid them all out on their pillows to sort them.
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