|From 1904 newspaper|
A Christmas Poem by Peter McArthur, 1904
I Have presents by the dozen,
Meant to make my Christmas glad.
From each uncle, aunt and cousin,
Best a fellow ever had.
There's a keepsake from my mother,
Father sent a check and yet,
I am thinking of another
Of the one I didn't get.
There are gifts from all the fellows,
Pipes and things a chum will send:
There's a tie, all reds and yellows,
From a girl who calls me friend.
You would think me far from sighted
If you saw them all and yet.
I confess, I'm most delighted
With the one I didn't get.
She told me it was ready,
She'd prepared it long before:
I'd been calling on her steady
For as least a year or more.
She told me all about it.
And her eyes with tears were wet.
And I'm happy, never doubt it,
For that gift I didn't get.
Her attitude was altered
When I called on her last night,
But my tale of love I faltered.
And I guess I did it right.
And this little rhyme is written
'Cause I'm full of joy--you bet!
For a frosty little mitten
Was the gift I didn't get.