Читать книгу Boys and Girls - James W. Foley - Страница 7

Table of Contents

BILLY Peeble, he ain’t got no parents—never had none, ’cause

When he’s borned he was an orfunt; an’ he said ’at Santa Claus

Never didn’t leave him nothin’, ’cause he was a county charge,

An’ the overseer told him that his fambly was too large

To remember orfunt children; so I ast Ma couldn’t we

Have Bill Peeble up to our house, so’s to see our Christmas tree.

An’ she ast me if he’s dirty; an’ I said I guessed he was,

But I didn’t think it makes no difference with Santa Claus.

My his clo’es was awful ragged! Ma, she put him in a tub

An’ she poured it full of water, an’ she gave him such a scrub

’At he ’ist set there an’ shivered; an’ he told me afterwurds

’At he never washed all over out to Overseer Bird’s!

’En she burned his ragged trousies an’ she gave him some of mine;

My! she rubbed him an’ she scrubbed him till she almost made him shine,

Nen he ’ist looked all around him like he’s scairt for quite a w’ile,

An’ even w’en Ma’d pat his head he wouldn’t hardly smile.

’En after w’ile Ma took some flour-sacks an’ ’en she laid

’Em right down at the fireplace, ’ist ’cause she is afraid

Santa Claus ’ll soil the carpet when he comes down there, you know;

An’ Billy Peeble watched her, an’ his eyes stuck out—’ist so!

’En Ma said ’at in the mornin’ if we’d look down on the sacks

’At they’d be ’ist full of soot where Santa Claus had made his tracks;

Billy Peeble stood there, lookin’! An’ he told me afterwurds

He was scairt he’d wake right up an’ be at Overseer Bird’s.

Well, ’en she hung our stockin’s up an’ after w’ile she said:

“Now, you an’ Billy Peeble better go right off to bed,

An’ if you hear a noise tonight, don’t you boys make a sound,

’Cause Santa Claus don’t never come with little boys around!”

So me an’ Billy went to bed, an’ Billy Peeble, he

Could hardly go to sleep at all—’ist tossed an’ tossed. You see

We had such w’ite sheets on the bed an’ he said afterwurds

They never had no sheets at all at Overseer Bird’s.

So we ’ist laid an’ talked an’ talked. An’ Billy ast me who

Was Santa Claus. An’ I said I don’t know if it’s all true,

But people say he’s some old man who ’ist loves little boys

An’ keeps a store at the north pole with heaps an’ heaps of toys

W’ich he brings down in a big sleigh, with reindeers for his steeds,

An’ comes right down the chimbly flue an’ leaves ’ist what you needs.

My! he’s excited w’en I told him that! An’ afterwurds

He said they never had no toys at Overseer Bird’s.

I’m fallin’ pretty near asleep w’en Billy Peeble said:

“Sh-sh! What’s that noise?” An’ w’en he spoke I set right up in bed

Till sure enough I heard it in the parlor down below,

An’ Billy Peeble, he set up an’ ’en he said: “Le’s go!” So we got up an’ sneaked down stairs, an’ both of us could see ’At it was surely Santa Claus, ’ist like Ma said he’d be; But he must heard us comin’ down, because he stopped an’ said: “You, Henry Blake an’ William Peeble, go right back to bed!”

My goodness, we was awful scairt! An’ both of us was pale,

An’ Billy Peeble said up stairs: “My! Ain’t he ’ist a whale!”

We didn’t hardly dare to talk and got back into bed

An’ Billy pulled the counterpane clear up above his head,

An’ in the mornin’ w’en we looked down on the flour-sacks,

W’y sure enough we saw the soot where he had made his tracks,

An’ Billy got a suit of clothes, a drum, an’ sled an’ books,

Till he ’ist never said a word, but my! how glad he looks!

’En after w’ile it’s dinner time an’ Billy Peeble set

Right next to Pa, an’ my! how he ’ist et an’ et an’ et!

Till he ’ist puffed an’ had to leave his second piece of pie

BILLY PEEBLE’S CHRISTMAS

BECAUSE he couldn’t eat no more. An’ after dinner, w’y,

Ma dressed him up in his new clo’es, an Billy Peeble said

He’s sorry he’s an orfunt, an’ Ma patted Billy’s head,

W’ich made him cry a little bit, an’ he said afterwurds

Nobody ever pats his head at Overseer Bird’s.

An’ all day long Pa looked at Ma an’ Ma she looked at him,

Because, Pa said ’at Billy looked a little bit like Jim

’At was my baby brother, but he died oncet, years ago,

An’ ’at’s w’y Billy Peeble makes my mother like him so.

She says ’at Santa brought him as a present, ’ist instead

Of little Jim ’at died oncet. So she ’ist put him to bed

On Christmas night an’ tucked him in an’ told me afterwurds

’At he ain’t never goin’ back to Overseer Bird’s.