High LIfe at Christmas.

High LIfe at Christmas.
255.2

When the turkey’s on the table,
And the mince ple’s on the way,
An’ my plate is filled with ilxens
Thet belong to Christmas day,
I fergit I’m I’m over eighty,
An’ about my rheumatiz,
An’ it seems to me that livin’ Is the best thing that they is.

Every year the time gets shorter
‘Twixt the promise land and me,
An’ perhaps the oyster stofflin
Ain’t jest what it used to be.
But I’ve made my peace with heaven,
An’ I ain’t a word to say
When the turkey’s on the table
An’ the mince ple’s on the way.
-Albert Bigelow Paine.