There's a jolly old fellow whose hair is snow white,
And his little bright eyes are blue;
He'll be making his visits Christmas night,
And perhaps he may call upon you.
A jolly old name has this jolly old man,
You can guess what it is no doubt.
He creeps down the chimney as soft as he can,
And then just as quickly he's out.
His plump cheeks are rosy as red cherries ripe,
His face is as red as can be;
You get now and then a puff of his pipe,
But his face you seldon can see.
He carries a bag full of sweetmeats and toys,
And leaves them where ever he goes
For good little girls and good little boys;
So hang up your pretty white hose.
Jolly Old Man
A Fictional Short Story by
Agnes Taylor Ketchum & Ida M. Jorgensen