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."