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And all the workhouse children
He sets them down in a row,
And two-pence a-piece also.
Oh, could you have seen those paupers,
Have heard those children young,
Came often and tarried long!
He must be a rich old fellow,–
What money he gives away! There is not a lord in England
Could equal him any day!
Good luck unto old Christmas,
And long life, let us sing,
191. CHRISTMAS IN THE OLDEN TIME.
FROM AN OLD Song.
At Christmas, in each hail,
And meat for great and small.
And all had welcome true,
poor from the gates were not chidden When this old cap was new.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS,
192. HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Home for the Holidays, here we go ; Bless me! the train is exceedingly slow! Pray, Mr. Engineer, get up your steam, And let us be off, with a puff and a scream! We have two long hours to travel, you say ; Come, Mr. Engineer, gallop away! Two hours more! why the sun will be down Before we reach dear old London town! And then what a number of fathers, and mothers, And uncles, and aunts, and sisters, and brothers, Will be there to meet us-oh! do make haste, For I'm sure, Mr. Guard, we have no time to waste ! Thank goodness, we shan't have to study and stammer Over Latin, and sums, and that nasty French Grammar; Lectures, and classes, and lessons are done, And now we'll have nothing but frolic and fun. Home for the holidays, here we go! But this Fast Train is really exceedingly slow. We shall have sport when Christmas comes, When “snap-dragon” burns our fingers and thumbs : We'll hang mistletoe over our dear little cousins, And pull them beneath it and kiss them by dozens : We shall have games at “ blind-man’s-buff,” And noise and laughter, and romping enough : We'll crown the plum-pudding with bunches of bay, And roast all the chestnuts that come in our way; And when Twelfth Night falls, we'll have such a cake, That as we stand round it the table shall quake. We'll draw “King and Queen,” and be happy together, And dance old “Sir Roger" with hearts like a feather, . Home for the holidays, here we go ! But this Fast Train is really exceedingly slow! And we'll go and see Harlequin's wonderful feats, Changing by magic whatever he meets ; And Columbine, too, with her beautiful tripping, And clown, with his tumbling, and jumping, and slipping, Cramming all things in his pocket so big, And letting off crackers in Pantaloon's wig. The horses that danced too, last year in the ring, We remember the tune, it was sweet “ Tink-a-Ting;"
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.
And their tails, and their manes, and their sleek coats so
bright; Some cream and some piebald, some black and some white; And how Mr. Merryman made us all shout, When he fell from the horse, and went rolling about; We'll be sure to go there'tis such capital fun, And we won't stir an inch till it's every bit done! Mr. Punch, we'll have him too, our famous old friend; One might see him for ever and laugh to the end : With his little dog Toby, so clever and wise, And poor Mrs. Judy, with tears in her eyes ; With the constable taking him off to the bar, And the gentleman talking his “ Shalla-balla ;" With the
flourishing stick that knocks all of them down, For Punch's delight is in breaking a crown. Home for the Holidays, here we go! But really this train is exceedingly slow; Yet, stay! I declare here is London at last; The Park is right over the tunnel just pass’d. Huzza! huzza ! I can see my papa ! I can see George's uncle, and Edward's mamma! And Fred, there's your brother! look ! look ! there he stands ; They see us ! they see us ! they're waving their hands! Why don't the train stop? what are they about ? Now, now it is steady-oh ! pray let us out! A cheer for old London, a kiss for mamma, We're home for the holidays. Now, huzza !
193. A FAREWELL. My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey : Yet ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long, And so make life, death, and that vast for ever, One grand, sweet song.
194. Now pray we for our Country