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!"