作者：James Whitcomb Riley
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
A Defective Santa Claus试读：
DEDICATION
ToHEWITT HANSON HOWLANDWITH HALEST CHRISTMAS GREETINGSAND FRATERNALLittle Boy! Halloo!—halloo!Can't you hear me calling you?—Little Boy that used to be,Come in here and play with me.A Defective Santa Claus
Allus when our Pa he's awayNen Uncle Sidney comes to stayAt our house here—so Ma an' meAn' Etty an' Lee-Bob won't beAfeard ef anything at nightMight happen—like Ma says it might.(Ef Trip wuz big, I bet you he'Uz best watch-dog you ever see!)An' so last winter—ist beforeIt's go' be Chris'mus-Day,—w'y, shoreEnough, Pa had to haf to goTo 'tend a lawsuit—"An' the snowIst right fer Santy Claus!" Pa said,As he clumb in old Ayersuz' sled,An' said he's sorry he can't beWith us that night—"'Cause," he-says-ee,"Old Santy might be comin' here—This very night of all the yearI' got to be away!—so allAn' Uncle Sid!" An' clucked, an' leantBack, laughin'—an' away they went!An' Uncle wave' his hands an' yells"Yer old horse ort to have on bells!"But Pa yell back an' laugh an' say"I 'spect when Santy come this wayIt's time enough fer sleighbells nen!"An' holler back "Good-by!" again,An' reach out with the driver's whipAn' cut behind an' drive back Trip.An' so all day it snowed an' snowed!An' Lee-Bob he ist watched the road,In his high-chair; an' Etty sheU'd play with Uncle Sid an' me—Where Ma she wuz a-cookin' thereAn' kitchen, too, an' ever'where!An' Uncle say, "'At's ist the wayYer Ma's b'en workin', night an' day,Sence she hain't big as Etty isEr Lee-Bob in that chair o' his!"Nen Ma she'd laugh 't what Uncle said,An' smack an' smoove his old bald headAn' say "Clear out the way till ICan keep that pot from b'ilin' dry!"Nen Uncle, when she's gone back toThe kitchen, says, "We ust to doSome cookin' in the ashes.—Say,S'posin' we try some, thataway!"Pa's b'en a-keepin' 'cause they gotThe premiun at the Fair. An' whatYou think?—He rake a grea'-big holeIn the hot ashes, an' he rollThem old big 'taters in the placeAn' rake the coals back—an' his faceIst swettin' so's he purt'-nigh swear'Cause it's so hot! An' when they're there'Bout time 'at we fergit 'em, heIst rake 'em out again—an' gee!—He bu'st 'em with his fist wite onA' old stove-led, while Etty's goneTo git the salt, an' butter, too—Ist like he said she haf to do,'Em cool enough fer us to eat—An' me-o-my! they're hard to beat!An' Trip 'ud ist lay there an' pantLike he'd laugh out loud, but he can't.Nen Uncle fill his pipe—an' we'Ud he'p him light it—Sis an' me,—But mostly little Lee-Bob, 'cause"He's the best Lighter ever wuz!"Like Uncle telled him wunst when Lee-Bob cried an' jerked the light from me,He wuz so mad! So Uncle patAn' pet him. (Lee-Bob's ust to that—'Cause he's the little-est, you know,An' allus has b'en humored so!)Old Chris'mus-times when he's a kid,He ist cracked hickernuts, he did,Till they's a crockful, mighty nigh!An' when they're all done by an' by,He raked the red coals out againAn' telled me, "Fetch that popcorn in,An' old three-leggud skillut—an'The led an' all now, little man,—An' yer old Uncle here 'ull showYou how corn's popped, long years agoWhen me an' Santy Claus wuz boysOn Pap's old place in Illinoise!—试读结束[说明：试读内容隐藏了图片]