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Christmas Roses   By:

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Christmas Roses


Lizzie Lawson


Robert Ellice Mack.


London: Griffith, Farran & Company St. Paul's Churchyard.

[Illustration: CHRISTMAS ROSES]


A BUNCH of Christmas Roses, dear, To greet my fairest child, I plucked them in my garden where The drifting snow lay piled.

I cannot bring thee violets dear, Or cowslips growing wild, Or daisy chain for thee to wear, For thee to wear, my child.

For all the grassy meadows near Are clad with snow, my child; Through all the days of winter drear No ray of sun has smiled.

I plucked this bunch of verses, dear, From out my garden wild, I plucked them in the winter drear For you, my fairest child, Your wet and wintry hours to cheer, They're Christmas Roses, child.



" I DON'T believe that Santa Claus will come to you and me," Said little crippled Nell, "a'cause, we are so poor you see; And then I don't believe the 'chimbley's' wide enough for him, D'ye think that Santa Claus will come, when all the lights are dim." "Of course he comes to every one, dear, whether rich or poor; Now go to bed dear Nell," said Nan, "he'll come to night I'm sure."

I don't know if by chimney or if by stair he crept, But sure enough he visited the room where Nelly slept. He brought a golden orange, and a monkey red and blue, That climbed a little wooden stick in a way I couldn't do. He hung them in Nell's stocking, and Nan was right, be sure, That Santa Claus loves every one however rich or poor.



" I HAVE a little Bunny with a coat as soft as down, And nearly all of him is white except one bit of brown. The first thing in the morning when I get out of bed, I wonder if my Bunny's still safe in his little shed.

And than the next thing that I do I dare say you have guessed; It's to go at once and see him, when I am washed and dressed. And every day I see him I like him more and more, And each day he is bigger than he was the day before.

I feed him in the morning with bran and bits of bread, And every night I take some straw to make his little bed. What with carrots in the morning and turnip tops for tea, If a bunny can be happy, I'm sure he ought to be.

Then when it's nearly bedtime I go down to his shed, And say 'Good night you Bunny' before I go to bed. I think there's only one thing that would make me happy quite, If I could take my Bunny dear with me to bed at night?"

[Illustration: THE PET RABBIT.]



IT'S Father's boat we're watching, Away out on the sea, She's named the Pretty Polly, One hundred and ninety three, Father called her the Polly, After Mother and me.

There isn't a smarter boat Than Father's on the sea, The Pretty Polly is our ship, Father's the skipper is he, And we are watching for Father, We're watching, Nancy and me.

Sometimes the wind blows wildly, But Nancy, and Mother, and me, We sing a bit of a hymn we know, The hymn for those at sea, Although when we think of Father, We're as near to choke as can be.

To night the moon will be shining, A sight it will be to see, Father's ship all in silver, A'sail on a silver sea, And Father himself a coming home To Mother and Nancy and me.

[Illustration: FATHER'S BOAT.]



" MY dears, whatever are you at? You ought to be at home; I told you not to wet your feet I told you not to roam... Continue reading book >>

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