I'll tell thee everything I can,
And I will not be mute.
I saw an aged aged man
A-coming down a chute.
"Who are you, aged man?" I asked.
"And how is it you give?"
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.
He said, "I overlook the elves
That makes the Christmas toys:
I make them put them on the shelves
With elegance and poise.
I give them unto kids," he said,
"That behave very well,
"While they are sleeping in their beds—
I give, and do not sell."
But I was thinking of a plan
To paint the evergreen
Pink, and put it in a can
So it could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come, tell me how you give!"
And thumped him on the head.
His accents mild took up the tale:
He said, "I go my way
Through snow and sleet and rain and hail
Driving a flying sleigh;
And then I go from roof to roof
(Avoiding the church spire),
And tumble down the chimney—poof!—
And hope there's not a fire!"
But I was thinking of a way
To feed on snip-snap-dragons
Until too fat to fit a sleigh
Or fit the largest wagons.
I shook him well from side to side
Until his face was blue:
"Come, tell me how you give," I cried,
"And what it is you do!"
He said, "I teach reindeer to fly
To a tremendous height,
And reach the summit of the sky
In the silent night.
And these fly all around the earth
Carrying Christmas toys,
Their work is to spread joy and noise,
But with but little noise.
"I sometimes put candy in socks
And clothes beneath the tree—
But naughty kids get only rocks
And coal and ash from me.
And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
"By which I spread my wealth—
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honor's noble health."
I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
For making snowmen out of dust
To give my valentine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he spread his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.
And now, if e'er I chance to hear
Jingle bells softly played,
Or madly shoot a leaping deer,
Or kiss the dairy maid
Under a sprig of mistletoe
Because she is so cute,
I laugh, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know—
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was was nothing like a crow,
Whose eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his "ho!",
Who rocked his body to and fro,
Who muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth was full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo——
That Christmas evening long ago,
A-coming down a chute.
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