Santa Claus

When my mother is n't here, And I just won't go to bed, And it's cold outside and near Christmas; and the kitchen-shed 'S covered thick with frost and snow; Then my nurse she says, 'Oh! oh! Better get to bed! My Laws! Think I hear Old Santa Claus!' Then I hurry; never kick, Squirm or cry or anything: But jump into bed right quick: 'Fraid to look around; and cling Fast to nurse; and close my eyes Tight: she looking just as wise! Scared, too, don't you know? because She fast heard Old Santa Claus. Why in goodness I'm afraid I don't know. For Santa's good, So they say, and brings much aid To all folks. It's understood Specially to girls and boys, Christmas-trees and cakes and toys; But there must be some good cause Makes one 'fraid of Santa Claus. It's his whiskers, I suppose; Gray and big about his chin, Where you just can see his nose And his eyes, each like a pin: And his clothes all made of hair Twinkling thick with frost. Declare If I saw him I'd have cause To be scared of Santa Claus. One night, week from Christmas, I Looked out through the window-pane; And right in our back-yard, why, Some one walked in wind and rain, Swishing, splashing with a whip. Did n't I just hop and skip Into bed? because, because Guess it was Old Santa Claus. And I am all shivery When I wake up winter nights, And it's dark and I can't see, And the black wind fights and fights Round the chimney; then right quick Under cover my head I stick, Crying, 'Mother! wake up! 'cause Think I hear Old Santa Claus!'