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Who Santy-Claus Wuz

By James Whitcomb Riley

Topics: classic

Jes' a little bit o' feller - I remember still -     Ust to almost cry fer Christmas, like a youngster will.     Fourth o' July's nothin' to it! - New Year's ain't a smell!     Easter-Sunday - Circus-day - jes' all dead in the shell!     Lawzy, though! at night, you know, to set around an' hear     The old folks work the story off about the sledge an' deer,     An' "Santy" skootin' round the roof, all wrapt in fur an' fuzz -     Long afore                     I knowed who                                      "Santy-Claus" wuz!     Ust to wait, an' set up late, a week er two ahead;     Couldn't hardly keep awake, ner wouldn't go to bed;     Kittle stewin' on the fire, an' Mother settin' here     Darnin' socks, an' rockin' in the skreeky rockin'-cheer;     Pap gap', an' wonder where it wuz the money went,     An' quar'l with his frosted heels, an' spill his liniment;     An' me a-dreamin' sleigh-bells when the clock 'ud whir an' buzz,     Long afore                     I knowed who                                      "Santy-Claus" wuz!     Size the fire-place up an' figger how "Ole Santy" could     Manage to come down the chimbly, like they said he would;     Wisht 'at I could hide an' see him - wunderd what he'd say     Ef he ketched a feller layin' fer him thataway!     But I bet on him, an' liked him, same as ef he had     Turned to pat me on the back an' say, "Look here, my lad,     Here's my pack, - jes' he'p yourse'f, like all good boys does!"     Long afore                     I knowed who                                         "Santy-Claus" wuz!     Wisht that yarn was true about him, as it 'peared to be -     Truth made out o' lies like that-un's good enough fer me! -     Wisht I still wuz so confidin' I could jes' go wild     Over hangin' up my stockin's, like the little child     Climbin' in my lap to-night, an' beggin' me to tell     'Bout them reindeers, and "Old Santy" that she loves so well     I'm half sorry fer this little-girl-sweetheart of his -     Long afore                     She knows who                                      "Santy-Claus" is!

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"Jes' a little bit o' feller - I remember still -..." by James Whitcomb Riley

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James Whitcomb Riley

About James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley (1849–1916) was an American poet known as the "Hoosier Poet." His dialect poems—including "Little Orphant Annie" and "When the Frost Is on the Punkin"—celebrate rural Indiana life and childhood nostalgia.

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