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A Defective Santa Claus

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A Defective Santa Claus

Allus when our Pa he's away

Nen Uncle Sidney comes to stay

At our house here—so Ma an' me

An' Etty an' Lee-Bob won't be

Afeard ef anything at night

Might happen—like Ma says it might.

(Ef Trip wuz big, I bet you he

'Uz best watch-dog you ever see!)

An' so last winter—ist before

It's go' be Chris'mus-Day,—w'y, shore

Enough, Pa had to haf to go

To 'tend a lawsuit—"An' the snow

Ist right fer Santy Claus!" Pa said,

As he clumb in old Ayersuz' sled,

An' said he's sorry he can't be

With us that night—"'Cause," he-says-ee,

"Old Santy might be comin' here—

This very night of all the year



I' got to be away!—so all

You kids must tell him—ef he call—

He's mighty welcome, an' yer Pa

He left his love with you an' Ma

An' Uncle Sid!" An' clucked, an' leant

Back, laughin'—an' away they went!

An' Uncle wave' his hands an' yells

"Yer old horse ort to have on bells!"

But Pa yell back an' laugh an' say

"I 'spect when Santy come this way

It's time enough fer sleighbells nen!"

An' holler back "Good-by!" again,

An' reach out with the driver's whip

An' cut behind an' drive back Trip.

An' so all day it snowed an' snowed!

An' Lee-Bob he ist watched the road,



In his high-chair; an' Etty she

U'd play with Uncle Sid an' me—

Like she wuz he'ppin' fetch in wood

An' keepin' old fire goin' good,

Where Ma she wuz a-cookin' there

An' kitchen, too, an' ever'where!

An' Uncle say, "'At's ist the way

Yer Ma's b'en workin', night an' day,

Sence she hain't big as Etty is

Er Lee-Bob in that chair o' his!"

Nen Ma she'd laugh 't what Uncle said,

An' smack an' smoove his old bald head

An' say "Clear out the way till I

Can keep that pot from b'ilin' dry!"

Nen Uncle, when she's gone back to

The kitchen, says, "We ust to do



Some cookin' in the ashes.—Say,

S'posin' we try some, thataway!"

An' nen he send us to tell Ma

Send two big 'taters in he saw

Pa's b'en a-keepin' 'cause they got

The premiun at the Fair. An' what

You think?—He rake a grea'-big hole

In the hot ashes, an' he roll

Them old big 'taters in the place

An' rake the coals back—an' his face

Ist swettin' so's he purt'-nigh swear

'Cause it's so hot! An' when they're there

'Bout time 'at we fergit 'em, he

Ist rake 'em out again—an' gee!—

He bu'st 'em with his fist wite on

A' old stove-led, while Etty's gone



To git the salt, an' butter, too—

Ist like he said she haf to do,

No matter what Ma say! An' so

He salt an' butter 'em, an' blow

'Em cool enough fer us to eat—

An' me-o-my! they're hard to beat!

An' Trip 'ud ist lay there an' pant

Like he'd laugh out loud, but he can't.

Nen Uncle fill his pipe—an' we

'Ud he'p him light it—Sis an' me,—

But mostly little Lee-Bob, 'cause

"He's the best Lighter ever wuz!"

Like Uncle telled him wunst when Lee-

Bob cried an' jerked the light from me,

He wuz so mad! So Uncle pat

An' pet him. (Lee-Bob's ust to that—



'Cause he's the little-est, you know,

An' allus has b'en humored so!)

Nen Uncle gits the flat-arn out,

An', while he's tellin' us all 'bout

Old Chris'mus-times when he's a kid,

He ist cracked hickernuts, he did,

Till they's a crockful, mighty nigh...!