From the Newark Evening Star, December 21, 1914.

Where we used to live we had
    A fireplace, big and wide,
An’ all that Santy had to do
    Was hold his breath an’ slide,
An’ squeeze hisself until he fit
    The hole, an’ then jest drop—
An’ he knowed where the stockin’s was,
    ‘Cause that was where he’d stop.

Where we used to live it was
    No trick for him to climb
Up to the chimbly on the roof
    An’ find us, Christmas-time;
But now I’m worryin’ for fear
    He won’t know where he’s at,
Or mebbe can’t get in at all!
    We’re livin’ in a flat.

We’re livin’ in a flat, an’ say,
    You mus’ be mos’ polite,
Or else the janitor he’ll go
    An’ lock you out at night!
There ain’t no chimbly to our house
    Where Santy Claus can slide—
There ain’t no fireplace—just a pipe
    About two inches wide.

They heat our flat with steam—that’s why
    I’m afraid he can’t get in
With all his toys, an’ drums an’ things,
    Unless he’s awful thin;
An’ how’s he gon’ to wiggle out
    When he gets in? Gee whiz!
There’s such an awful little hole
    There where the sizzle is!