Between Five And Seventy Five
At night we would whisper, brother and I, that we simply couldn't wait
For the coming days to fast fly by; til that breath holding, happy date
When, while we were sleeping, a little fat man in fur trimmed coat and boots,
Would sneak into our house and leave gifts so grand; then we'd rise in the morning with hoots!
Ah! Then the time would fly by!
and he did!
and we did!
It was grand!
At night, now, I think to myself, that the days are still whizzing past but no jolly morning is coming on fast
when the house will be filled with family and laughing and song. So, I think I must have done something forbidden, cruel or very, very wrong