From The Topeka State Journal, December 26, 1913.

There’s somethin’ doin’ in our flat,
    ‘Taint like it used to be;
There seems to be some secret that
    They’re keepin’ ‘way from me.
They’re whisperin’ from morn to night,
    It makes me gol ding sick;
For every time I come in sight
    They all shet up right quick.

It seems like I can’t go about
    The rooms or anywhere,
Unless somebody has to shout,
    “You mustn’t go in there.”
Pa’s room is locked up like a jail,
    It never was before;
And ma, she hollers and turns pale
    If I go near the door.

But when they think that I’m in bed
    These fine December nights,
I’m underneath the lounge instead,
    A-seein’ all the sights
That in the sittin’ room are shown
    When dad unwraps the stuff.
I let ‘em think they are alone,
    So you can hang their bluff.

When I’ve snuck back and closed my eyes
    In bed, I can’t help think
Of pa and ma’s great big surprise
    And I can’t sleep a wink.
They’re handing me an awful game,
    And I’m dead wise this year,
But I’m right tickled just the same
    That Christmas morn is near.