The Merry Christmas of the Old Woman who Lived in a Shoe

(Heads appear as before.)

Lads and lassies know good Santa,
With presents not a few;
Would he were here, my chicks to cheer,
Living in a shoe!

Aha! (Heads disappear.)

Well, I'll get in, and make the children warm.
Tucked in their beds, they're always safe from harm.
And in their dreams, perhaps, such gifts will rise
As wakeful, wretched poverty denies.

(Disappears behind shoe.)

Enter cautiously, R., Santa Claus; his fabled dress is hidden by a long domino, or "waterproof;" he has, swung about his neck, a tin kitchen, on which he grinds an imaginary accompaniment to his song.

Santa. "You'd scarce expect one of my age" —
For gray hair is the symbol of the sage —
To play at "hide-and-seek," to your surprise.
Here's honest Santa Claus, in rough disguise.
But 'tis all right, as I will quick explain,
For I've a mystic project "on the brain."
I've dropped down chimneys all this blessed night,
Where warmth and comfort join to give delight;
I've filled the stockings of the merry elves,
Who, to fond parents, are rich gifts themselves;
And now I've come, resolved to make a show
In that old mansion with the copper toe,
Where dwells a dame, with children great and small,
Enough to stock a school, or crowd a hall.

If they are worthy of our kind regard,
Christmas shall bring to them a rich reward.
So I have donned for once a meaner dress,
To personate a beggar in distress.
If to my wants they lend a listening ear,
The rough old shoe shall glow with Christmas cheer:
If they are rude, and turn me from the door,
Presto! I vanish, and return no more.

Song: Santa Claus; air, "Them blessed Roomatics."

My name's Johnny Schmoker, and I am no joker;
I don't in my pockets no greenbacks perceive.
For, what with high dressing in fashions distressing,
I can't with a morsel my hunger relieve.
My stomach so tender, that aches there engender;
The whole blessed day I am crying out, "Oh!"
Drat these grand fashions! they wakens my passions,
A-nippin' and gnawin' my poor stomach so!

(Heads appear as before.)

I've had the lumbager, dyspepsy, and ager,
With tight-fitting veskits and pantaloons too;
Highsterics and swimins, delirious trimins,
St. Vestris's dance, and the tick dolly-oo.
But not the whole gettin', one's body tight fits in,
Is noffin' to this, which is drefful. Oh, oh!
Drat these grand fashions! they wakens my passions,
A-nippin' and gnawin' my poor stomach so!

(Heads disappear.)

Now, there's a touching song to move the heart,
Hark! what's that? I thought I heard them start.

Song: Children, outside; air, "Oh, dear, what can the matter be?"

Oh, dear, what can the matter be?
Dear, dear, what can the matter be?
Oh, dear, what can the matter be?
Somebody's groaning out there!
A hungry old beggar has come here to tease us,
By grinding an organ he knows will not please us.
He hopes it may bring him a handful of pennies,
To buy him a loaf of brown bread.

Enter Old Woman, with Children, L., from behind shoe. The largest hangs on to her skirts, the next in size to the largest, until they dwindle to the smallest; repeat song as they enter slowly, turn to R., march across stage; turn to L., march across again; turn to R., and form across stage.

O. W. Now go away, old man. 'Tis very queer
That you should seek to waste your sweetness here;
For we've no money, not a cent, to pay
For music; so you'd better up and move away.

Santa. Alas, alas! and can you be unkind
To one who's been by Fortune left behind;
Who has no friend, no money, and no clo'es;
The hunted victim of unnumbered woes?
Good dame, I ask not money: if you please,
A simple crust my hunger to appease.

O. W. Good gracious! Starving! Children, do you hear?
The old man's hungry: quickly disappear!

(Children scamper behind shoe.)

Santa. She drives them in. To me 'tis very clear