From the Omaha Daily Bee, December 11, 1912. Most everybody’s busy— I pity him that ain’t— There are millions and millions of dolls to dress, And millions of pictures to paint; There are millions of knots of ribbon to tie And millions of loops to crochet; And the days and hours are galloping on Right up to Christmas Day. There are infinite numbers of bundles to wrap And millions of greetings to write; If we should attempt to count them all The figures would climb out of sight. And think of the millions of parcels to tie And the millions of stickers to stick ‘em. And think of the millions and billions of stamps That are waiting for people to lick ‘em. There’ll be millions and millions of tapers bright All over this great U. S.; As many as there are twinkling stars In the frosty heavens, I guess. And there’ll be millions of stockings small Whose hungry tops will be yawning And millions of jobs for Santa Claus ‘Twixt now and Christmas morning.