"As you don't seem to know what you'd like for Christmas, Freddie," said his mother, "here's a printed list of presents for a good little boy."
Freddie read over the list, and then said:
"Mother, haven't you a list for a bad little boy?"
'Twas the month after Christmas,
And Santa had flit;
Came there tidings for father
Which read: "Please remit!"
And Santa had flit;
Came there tidings for father
Which read: "Please remit!"
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