You are here
قراءة كتاب A Defective Santa Claus
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Santy fix the Tree—
An' all yer whistles, horns an' drums
I'll he'p you toot when morning comes!"
It's long while 'fore we go to sleep,—
'Cause down-stairs, all-time somepin' keep
A-kindo' scufflin' roun' the floors—
An' openin' doors, an' shettin' doors—
An' could hear Trip a-whinin', too,
Like he don't know ist what to do—
An' tongs a-clankin' down k'thump!— Nen some one squonkin' the old pump— An' Wooh! how cold it soun' out there! I could ist see the pump-spout where |
It's got ice chin-whiskers all wet An' drippy—An' I see it yet! An' nen, seem-like, I hear some mens A-talkin' out there by the fence, An' one says, "Oh, 'bout twelve o'clock!" "Nen," 'nother'n says, "Here's to you, Doc!— God bless us ever' one!" An' nen I heerd the old pump squonk again. An' nen I say my prayer all through Like Uncle Sidney learn' me to,— "O Father mine, e'en as Thine own, This child looks up to Thee alone: |
Asleep or waking, give him still His Elder Brother's wish and will." An' that's the last I know.... Till Ma She's callin' us—an' so is Pa,— |
He holler "Chris'mus-gif'!" an' say,— "I'm got back home fer Chris'mus-Day!— An' Uncle Sid's here, too—an' he Is nibblin' 'roun' yer Chris'mus-Tree!" Nen Uncle holler, "I suppose Yer Pa's so proud he's froze his nose He wants to turn it up at us, 'Cause Santy kick' up such a fuss— Tetchin' hisse'f off same as ef He wuz his own fireworks hisse'f!" An' when we're down-stairs,—shore enough, Pa's nose is froze an' salve an' stuff |
All on it—an' one hand's froze, too, An' got a old yarn red-and-blue Mitt on it—"An' he's froze some more Acrost his chist, an' kindo' sore |
All roun' his dy-fram," Uncle say.— "But Pa he'd ort a-seen the way Santy bear up last night when that- Air fire break out, an' quicker'n scat He's all a-blazin', an' them-'air Gun-cotton whiskers that he wear Ist flashin'!—till I burn a hole In the snow with him, and he roll The front-yard dry as Chris'mus jokes Old parents plays on little folks! But, long's a smell o' tow er wool, I kep' him rollin' beautiful!— |
Till I wuz shore I shorely see He's squenched! W'y, hadn't b'en fer me, That old man might a-burnt clear down Clean—plum'—level with the groun'!" |
Nen Ma say, "There, Sid; that'll do!— Breakfast is ready—Chris'mus, too.— Your voice 'ud soun' best, sayin' Grace— Say it." An' Uncle bow' his face An' say so long a Blessing nen, Trip bark' two times 'fore it's "A-men!" |