The Little Ones

The little ones are put in bed,

And both are laughing, lying down;

Their father, and their mother too,

Are gone on Christmas-eve to town.

“Old Santa Claus will bring a horse,

Gee up,” cried little Will, with glee;

“If I am good, I’ll have a doll

From Santa Claus”—laughed Emily.

The little ones are gone to sleep,

Their father and their mother now

Are coming home, with many more—

They're drunk, and make a merry row.

The little ones on Christmas morn

Jump up, like skylarks from the grass;

And then they stand as still as stones,

And just as cold as stones, Alas!

No horse, no doll beside their bed,

No sadder little ones could be;

“We did some wrong,” said little Will—

“We must have sinned,” sobbed Emily.