Christmas Eve

by Lillian Holmes

It's Christmas, you know, Fiametta --
At least it's the night just before.
Father Christmas is due,
Let me whisper to you.
He doesn't come in at the door.

He doesn't come in through the window;
His way's a more wonderful way;
Over house-tops he glides,
And he's due, Fiametta, to-day!
Suppose he should mix up the stockings!
They're both the same colour and size;
It's really too bad,
It would be so sad
If I'd a wax doll with blue eyes.
If I got to sleep, Fiametta,
And you keep your eyes open wide,
You can just take a peep,
While I'm lying asleep,
To see what he's putting inside.

Oh, do keep, awake, Fiametta!
My eyes are as heavy as lead,
And if he should come
With a doll or drum,
Just ask him for soldiers instead.

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