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_Told this joke on himself in rhyme: _
One Christmas, in the early din
That ever leads the morning in,
I heard the happy children shout
In rapture at the toys turned out
Of bulging little socks and shoes --
A joy at which I could but choose
To listen enviously, because
I'm always just "Old Santa Claus," --
But ere my rising sigh had got
To its first quaver at the thought,
It broke in laughter, as I heard
A little voice chirp like a bird, --
And awful rich -- and he can go
Down ever' chimbly anywhere
In all the world! -- But I don't care,
_I_ wouldn't trade with _him_, and be
Old Santa Clause, and him be me,
Fer all his toys and things! -- and _I_
Know why, and bet you _he_ knows why! --
They _wuz_ no Santa Clause when _he_
Wuz ist a little boy like me! "
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