JEST 'FOR CHRISTMAS

Not to reveal too much about my age, but many years back, when I was in 3^rd or 4^th grde, I attended a one-room school (actually, I went to two different ones in the course of the many schools I attended growing up – thanks to my dad's wanderlust and his constant search for a better job). The teacher at this particular school—I think her name might have been Mrs. Kildow but I can't remember for certain—used to read to us frequently. One of her favorites was the following Christmas poem. It was one of my favorites, too, and has stuck with me all these years. It came to mind the other day (as stray thoughts often do to old codgers) so I thought I'd see if I could find the exact wording on the Internet ... and by golly there it was.

After all these years I still had myself a chuckle or two reading through it again. It speaks of a simpler, sweeter time and of values (even naughty ones) I think everybody could use a dose of in this day and age.

Thinking ya'll might get a kick out of it, too, here—from the late 1800s, as written by Eugene Filed—is:

JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie but the fellers call me Bill!
Mighty glad I ain't a girl---ruther be a boy,
Without them sashes curls an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy!
Love to chawnk green apples an' go swimmin' in the lake--
Hate to take the castor-ile they give for belly-ache!
'Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain't no flies on me,But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sic him on the cat.
First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is at!
Got a clipper sled, an' when us kids goes out to slide,
'Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all hook a ride!
But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' cross,
He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups up his hoss,
An' then I laff an' holler, "Oh, ye never teched me!"But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!

Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man,
I'll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan,
As was et up by the cannibals that live in Ceylon's Isle,
Where every prospeck pleases, an' only man is vile!
But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West show,
Nor read the life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she'd know

That Buff'lo Bill an' cowboys is good enough for me!Excep' jest 'fore Christmas, when I'm as good as I kin be!

And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemn-like an' still,
His eyes they seem a-sayin': "What's the matter, little Bill?"
The old cat sneaks down off her perch an' wonders what's become
Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum!
But I am so perlite an' tend so earnestly to biz,
That mother says to father: "How improved our Willie is!"
But father, havin' been a boy hisself, suspicions meWhen, jest 'fore Christmas, I'm as good as I kin be!

For Christmas, with its lots an' lots of candies, cakes an' toys,
Was made, they say, for proper kids an' not for naughty boys;
So wash yer face an' bresh yer hair, an' mind yer p's and q's,
And don't bust out yer pantaloons, and don't wear out yer shoes;
Say "Yessum" to the ladies, and "Yessur" to the men,
An' when they's company, don'a pass yer plate for pie again;
But, thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that tree,Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be!

Eugene Field (1850-1895)