The Christmas Tree

Christmas is just one week off, And Old Santa's in the house; In the attic heard a cough Th' other day when not a mouse Nor a rat, I know, was there. Mother said, 'You'd better be Good, or else, I do declare! There won't be a Christmas-tree.' Christmas is next week. And I'm So excited! In the night Hardly ever sleep. One time Woke and heard strange footsteps, right In the hall, go down the stair; When I cried to mother, she Said, 'Lie down, now! I declare If you don't no Christmas-tree.' Yes; next week is Christmas. And I heard some one laughing sure, Low, half smothered by a hand, In the parlor where the door 'S always locked and, my! my hair Fairly crept. And suddenly Heard a hoarse voice say, 'Take care! Or you'll get no Christmas-tree.' Mother was a-lying down; 'T was n't she. And then the cook And my nurse had gone in town. Father, he was at a book. Must have been Old Santa there Just a-lying low to see If I'm good or I declare! Trimming up my Christmas-tree. One night, huh! the kitchen door Banged wide open. 'T was n't wind. And three knocks, or was it four? Shook the window. I just skinned Out of there and up the stair Where my mother was; and she Smiled, ''T was Santa, I'll declare! Bringing in your Christmas-tree.' And I never pout or cry When I have to go to bed; Just get in my gown and lie Quiet; listening for the tread Of a foot upon the stair, Or a voice it seems to me Santa's saying, 'I declare, It's a lovely Christmas-tree!' Every one just walks the chalk Now it's near to Christmas. Yes, I'm as careful in my talk As a boy could be, I guess: 'For Old Santa's everywhere, ' Mother says mysteriously, 'And, unless you're good, 'declare You won't have a Christmas-tree.'