The Merry Christmas of the Old Woman who Lived in a Shoe

 
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Down at Copper Toe Shoe.
Cold potato – tato,
Cold potato – tato,
Cold pota – to,
Down at Copper Toe Shoe.
 

(No interlude.)

 
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Down at Copper Toe Shoe.
Crusts for breakfast – breakfast,
Crusts for breakfast – breakfast,
Crusts for break – fast,
Down at Copper Toe Shoe.
 
 
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,
Down at Copper Toe Shoe.
Broth for supper – supper,
Broth for supper – supper,
Broth for sup – per,
Down at Copper Toe Shoe.
 
 
Oh, you sha'n't, &c.
 
 
Santa. Well, well, I'm puzzled! Here's a grand surprise.
Bless me, the tears are dropping from my eyes!
Thank you, my children. This is quite bewitchin';
With eatables you've nearly filled my kitchen.
Ah, little ones! you've learned the better part.
They are the poor who lack the kindly heart;
And they the rich, the noble, and the high,
Who never willing pass the sufferer by.
Now comes my triumph. Children, speak up bright:
 
 
What day is this?
 
 
All. Christmas.
 
 
Little Girl. No; 'tis Christmas night!
 
 
Santa. That's true. Now tell me who, against the laws,
Drops down the chimneys?
 
 
All. Why, old Santa Claus!
 
 
Santa. Bless me! how bright and nice these children are!
Each eye doth sparkle like the evening star.
Now, then, suppose I were that ancient sprite,
What would you ask, to give you most delight?
 
 
Child 1. I'd have a sled.
 
 
Child 2. A doll.
 
 
Child 3. A kite for me.
 
 
Child 4. Something still better.
 
 
Santa. What?
 
 
Child 4. A Christmas tree!
 
 
All Children. Oh, my! Good gracious! Wouldn't that be grand?
 
 
O. W. Too grand, my chicks, for you to understand.
 
 
Why, such a tree within our old shoe spread,
Would from their fastenings tear out every thread;
Make every peg to start from out its socket,
And send the buckle flying like a rocket.
Santa. Good, good! there's fun beneath that wrinkled phiz.
At playing Santa Claus, let's make a biz.
Suppose me Santa Claus. I bless you all:
Then from my waistcoat let this oven fall,
 

(Takes off kitchen.)

 
Throw off this mantle with a sudden jerk,
 

(Throws off disguise, and appears as Santa Claus.)

 
And in an instant set myself to work.