Читать книгу Our Boys - Various - Страница 5

Six merry stockings in the firelight,

Hanging by the chimney snug and tight:

Jolly, jolly red,

That belongs to Ted;

Daintiest blue,

That belongs to Sue;

Old brown fellow

Hanging long,

That belongs to Joe,

Big and strong;

Little, wee, pink mite

Covers Baby's toes—

Won't she pull it open

With funny little crows!

Sober, dark gray,

Quiet little mouse,

That belongs to Sybil

Of all the house;

One stocking left,

Whose should it be?

Why, that I'm sure

Must belong to me!

Well, so they hang, packed to the brim,

Swing, swing, swing, in the firelight dim.

'Twas the middle of the night.

Open flew my eyes;

I started up in bed,

And stared in surprise;

I rubbed my eyes, I rubbed my ears,

I saw the stockings swing, I heard the stockings sing;

Out in the firelight

Merry and bright,

Snug and tight,

Six were swinging,

Six were singing,

Like everything!

And the red, and the blue, and the brown, and the gray,

And the pink one, and mine, had it all their own way,

And no one could stop them—because, don't you see,

Nobody heard 'em—but just poor me!

"All day we carry toes,

To-night we carry candy;

Christmas comes once a year

Very nice and handy.

Run, run, race all day,

Mother mends us after play,

We don't care, life is gay,

Sing and swing, away, away!

"Boots and little tired shoes,

We kick 'em off in glee;

It's fun to hang up here

And Santa Claus to see.

Run, run, race all day,

Mother mends us after play,

We don't care, life is gay,

Sing and swing, away, away!

"To-morrow down we come,

The sweet things tumble out,

Then carrying toes again

We'll have to trot about.

Run, run, race all day,

Mother'll mend us after play,

We don't care, we'll swing so gay

While we can—away, away!"