Page:Our American Holidays - Christmas.djvu/140

 112  As he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird. And drops to the hearth like a stone.

The little red stockings he silently fills, Till the stockings will hold no more ; The bright little sleds for the great snow hills Are quickly set down on the floor. Then Santa Claus mounts to the roof like a bird, And glides to his seat in the sleigh; Not the sound of a bugle or drum is heard As he noiselessly gallops away.

He rides to the East, and he rides to the West, Of his goodies he touches not one ; He eateth the crumbs of the Christmas feast When the dear little folks are done. Old Santa Claus doeth all that he can; This beautiful mission is his; Then, children, be good to the little old man, When you find who the little man is.





Kindle the Christmas brand, and then Till sunset let it burn; Which quench'd, then lay it up again Till Christmas next return. 