A Feel in the Chris'mas-Air

THEY'S a kind o' feel in the air, to me,
When the Chris'mas-times sets in
That's about as much of a mystery
As ever I've run ag'in'! —
Fer instunce, now, whilse I gain in weight
And gineral health, I swear
They's a goneness somers I can't quite state —
A kind o' feel in the air!

They's a feel in the Chris'mas-air goes right
To the spot where a man lives at! —
It gives a feller a' appetite —
They ain't no doubt about that! —
And yit they's somepin ' — I don't know what —
That follers me, here and there,
And ha'nts and worries and spares me not —
A kind o' feel in the air!

They's a feel , as I say, in the air that's jest
As blame-don sad as sweet! —
In the same ra-sho as I feel the best
And am spryest on my feet,
They's allus a kind o' sort of a ache
That I can't lo-cate no-where; —
But it comes with Chris'mas , and no mistake! —
A kind o' feel in the air.

Is it the racket the children raise? —
W'y, no! — God bless 'em! — no! —
Is it the eyes and the cheeks ablaze —
Like my own wuz, long ago? —
Is it the bleat o' the whistle and beat
O' the little toy-drum and blare
O' the horn? — No! no! — it is jest the sweet —
The sad-sweet feel in the air.
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