The little ones are put in bed,
  And both are laughing, lying down;
Their father, and their mother too,
  Are gone on Christmas eve to town.

'Old Santa Claus will bring a horse,
  Gee up:' cried little Will, with glee;
' If I am good, I'll have a doll
  From Santa Claus' - laughed Emily.

The little ones are gone to sleep,
  Their father and their mother now
Are coming home, with many more -
  They're drunk, and make a merry row.

The little ones on Christmas morn
  Jump up, like skylarks from the grass;
And then they stand as still as stones,
  And just as cold as stones, Alas!

No horse, no doll beside their bed,
  No sadder little ones could be;
'We did some wrong,' said little Will -
  'We must have sinned,' sobbed Emily.