Little Jim

Little Jim.
239.7
You’re right, not every time you’ll meet a million- aire like me
That planks you down a check for your Xmas char- fty.
It’s downright joy for me to give, but they’ve more sense, they say.
The other fellows, but you see somehow that’s not my way.
I’ll tell you just why, well, I don’t care,
But now there’s quite a lot of men that make their pile of cash
And hope the past forgot. I’m one of them? No, siri
I don’t care if ’tis true that once instead of being rich,
I was poor as Lord know who,
And far from owning the Bonnie Bell, I worked for a miner’s pay
As black and just as as tough and hard at it day by day.
Well, at that time I was almost crazed. For months the strike was on.
My wife had died. I taken to drink, most every- thing was gone.
The rent was due for the very house where I lived with little Jim.
Her boy and mine, you’ve guessed it right, the story is concerning him.
And it’s not a pleasure for me to tell this story, but my heart will burst, it seerna to me.
If I don’t tell somebody, especially now when everything kinda draws
Us to the little folk, bless their hearts, who are looking for Santa Claus.
Twas Christmas then, the night before, no wonder my eyes grow dim.
That while all the world was glad there was nothing for little Jim.
The year before how proud he was of his little shoe
When Santa Claus filled it to the brim he made shoe such a big to-do,
And when he woke in the morning and found it by his bed.
Filled to the top and blacked so fine.

Some Notreabable

‘Twas Little Jim with his little face all white. Oh,
God, and the lantern holding on.
“Daddy, the train is safe, ain’t it? I waved the light”; a pause.
The men all crowded around; then he faintly said. “Is that ore Santa Claus
And the Bonnie Heile owner in heavy coat said: “Yes, my little man.
You’ve saved his life and A you all he can.” Banta Claus will help light broke o’er his face. so like his “ma.” Hе said:
Then you ain’t mad at daddy and me?”
Then you ” That’s all: my story’s done, except to tell you that for Jim
There wasn’t a single man punished nor one turned off. and because of him
You see I’ve been made what I Claus has been good to me.
Dear little made his grave that day. The bells have rung out their story since he went away.
And at each return of their happy chime my heart It bleeds anew
And Santa Clau finds at my empty hearth a little old worn out shoe.