Christmas Times Poem by Maggie Pogue Johnson

When are the children all happy and gay?
When do they ne'er grow tired of play?
When do their mouths seem like bells in chimes?
It is the merry Christmas times.
When do the little boys all get good?
And bring in coal and cut all the wood,
And every command of their parents mind,
'Tis just a week before Chistmas times.
That is the time when all of the work
Is done without a grumble or shirk.
The little boys then ne'er turn and twist,
When mother says, 'Son, come here and do this.'
Let the word be said, he's at her command,
Not once does he frown, or attempt to stand,
But goes at her bidding, happy and gay,
For it will soon be Christmas day.
And then old Santa, thro' all the snow,
Will come to those who've been good, you know;
Down the chimney he'll come and will not stop,
Till he fills each stocking full to the top.
When his task is o'er he takes his stand
Gazing at little ones in Dreamland,
Who in that land, all happy and gay,
Their minds all fixed on Christmas day.
And in a few hours, with merry hearts,
Little ones out of their warm beds dart,
All happy and gay, hearts full of cheer,
To see what's been bro't by Santa dear.
How happy is each little mind,
When every stocking full they find,
And presents scattered on the floor,
How could they ever ask for more?
No, no, but for many a year,
Christmas time to them will be dear,
And e'en in their prayers they make a pause
And ask many blessings on Santa Claus.