Dear Santa Claus

By Chas. S. Kinnison

Dear Santa Claus: I'm Jimmy Moore.

I guess you know we're awful poor,
and is that the reason, Santa,
why you always pass us by?
I think it must be that,
because the folks with money, Santa Claus,
get the nicest things for Christmas--
mebbe you can tell me why?

I've never had a Christmas tree--
I guess nobody thinks of me.
If they do, they all forget me when the toys are passed about.
And I guess you forgot me too--
the same as other people do,
Or mebbe you don't like me-- for you always leave me out.

But I thought you was different, though,
than the other people I know--
I thought sure that you'd remember, and would leave some little toys.
I wonder what it is I've done,
that I can't have no Christmas fun--
Do you think that I'm more naughty than the richer little boys?

But Santa Claus, I thought you might
remember me if I would write
a little note and ask you not to miss us, cause we're poor.
So please, now Santa, won't you try
to look me up--don't pass me by--.

I'll be lookin' for you, Santa!

From your old friend,
Jimmy Moore.