The Mahogany Tree

Christmas is here: Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we: Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany Tree

Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang, in its bloom; Night-birds are we: Here we carouse, Singing like them, Perched round the stem Of the jolly old tree.

Here let us sport, Boys, as we sit; Laughter and wit Flashing so free. Life is but short-- When we are gone, Let them sing on Round the old tree.

Evenings we knew, Happy as this; Faces we miss, Pleasant to see. Kind hearts and true, Gentle and just, Peace to your dust! We sing round the tree.

Care, like a dun, Lurks at the gate: Let the dog wait; Happy we'll be! Drink, every one; Pile up the coals, Fill the red bowls, Round the old tree!

Drain we the cup-- Friend, art afraid? Spirits are laid In the Red Sea. Mantle it up; Empty it yet; Let us forget, Round the old tree.

Sorrows, begone! Life and its ills, Duns and their bills, Bid we to flee. Come with the dawn, Blue-devil sprite. Leave us to-night, Round the old tree.

OF THIS BOOK 200 COPIES WERE PRINTED FOR THOMAS NAST FAIRBANKS BY HAL MARCHBANKS IN DECEMBER 1910

* * * * * *

There were no changes made by the transcriber.