Christmas Roses
Christmas Roses
by
Lizzie Lawson
and
Robert Elice Mack
London:
Griffith, Farran & Company
St. Paul’s Churchyard.
Christmas Roses[4]
Christmas Roses
A BUNCH of Christmas Roses, dear,
To greet my fairest child,
I plucked them in my garden where
The drifting snow lay piled.
I cannot bring thee violets dear,
Or cowslips growing wild,
Or daisy chain for thee to wear,
For thee to wear, my child.
Or cowslips growing wild,
Or daisy chain for thee to wear,
For thee to wear, my child.
For all the grassy meadows near
Are clad with snow, my child;
Through all the days of winter drear
No ray of sun has smiled.
Are clad with snow, my child;
Through all the days of winter drear
No ray of sun has smiled.
I plucked this bunch of verses, dear,
From out my garden wild,
I plucked them in the winter drear
For you, my fairest child,
Your wet and wintry hours to cheer,
They’re Christmas Roses, child.
From out my garden wild,
I plucked them in the winter drear
For you, my fairest child,
Your wet and wintry hours to cheer,
They’re Christmas Roses, child.
[5]
THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING.
I DON’T believe that Santa Claus will come to you and me,”
Said little crippled Nell, “a’cause, we are so poor you see;
And then I don’t believe the ‘chimbley’s’ wide enough for him,
D’ye think that Santa Claus will come, when all the lights are dim.”
“Of course he c
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