It's guessing time at our house; every evening after tea
We start guessing what old Santa's going to leave us on our tree.
Everyone of us holds secrets that the others-try to steal,
And that eyes and lips are plainly having trouble to conceal.
And a little lip that quivered just a bit the other night
Was a sad and startling warning that I mustn't guess it right.
'Guess what you will get for Christmas!' is the cry that starts the fun.
And I answer: 'Give the letter with which the name's begun.'
Oh, the eyes that dance around me and the joyous faces there
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem