Yesterday I tore some lace—stuck my finger through it; Day before I made a face—no one saw me do it. Once I splattered with the ink—got my dress all spotted, And there's other things I think that I have forgotted. Do you s'pose HE came last night? I was always taught he Would n't bring a single mite to a child that's naughty! But I guess if Santy's house has some children in it, They're not quiet as a mouse every single minute. And I guess that Mrs. Claus told him, if he let her, Not to blame this child, because his are n't any better! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL by KATHARINE LEE BATES KING DAVID by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET AMORETTI: 64 by EDMUND SPENSER DICK, A MAGGOT by JONATHAN SWIFT LAUS VENERIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE FELDMESTEN OR MEASURING THE GRAVES by ALTER ABELSON |