James Whitcomb Riley

“ 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! ”

“ An' blaze streaked roun' his waist an' higher
Wite up his old white beard an' th'oat!—
Nen Uncle grabs th' old overcoat
An' flops it over Santy's head,
An' swing the door wide back an' said,
"Come out, old man!—an' quick about
It!—I've ist got to put you out!"
An' out he sprawled him in the snow—
"Now roll!" he says—"Hi-roll-ee-O!"—
An' Santy, sputter'n' "Ouch! Gee-whiz!"
Ist roll an' roll fer all they is! ”