Classic Poem

The little ones are put in bed,
And both are laughing, lying down;
Their father, and their mother too,
Are gone on Christmas-eve to town.

“Old Santa Claus will bring a horse,
Gee up!” cried little Will, with glee;
“If I am good, I'll have a doll
From Santa Claus”—laughed Emily.

The little ones are gone to sleep,
Their father and their mother now
Are coming home, with many more—
They're drunk, and make a merry row.

The little ones on Christmas morn
Jump up, like skylarks from the grass;
And then they stand as still as stones,
And just as cold as stones, alas!

No horse, no doll beside their bed,
No sadder little ones could be;
“We did some wrong,” said little Will—
“We must have sinned,” sobbed Emily.