From The Topeka State Journal, December 26, 1913.
There’s somethin’ doin’ in our flat,
‘Taint like it used to be;
There seems to be some secret that
They’re keepin’ ‘way from me.
They’re whisperin’ from morn to night,
It makes me gol ding sick;
For every time I come in sight
They all shet up right quick.
It seems like I can’t go about
The rooms or anywhere,
Unless somebody has to shout,
“You mustn’t go in there.”
Pa’s room is locked up like a jail,
It never was before;
And ma, she hollers and turns pale
If I go near the door.
But when they think that I’m in bed
These fine December nights,
I’m underneath the lounge instead,
A-seein’ all the sights
That in the sittin’ room are shown
When dad unwraps the stuff.
I let ‘em think they are alone,
So you can hang their bluff.
When I’ve snuck back and closed my eyes
In bed, I can’t help think
Of pa and ma’s great big surprise
And I can’t sleep a wink.
They’re handing me an awful game,
And I’m dead wise this year,
But I’m right tickled just the same
That Christmas morn is near.