My mamma says that Santa Claus
Has lots of things for boys and girls;
But he won’t bring me any, ’cause
I cry when mamma makes my curls.

She says; “I’ll tell Old Santa
How naughty you have been;
He won’t come down the chimney,
Or bring you anything.”

I’d like a doll with curly hair,
A buggy and a lot of toys;
But I guess mamma doesn’t care,
For if I make a little noise.

She says; “I’ll tell Old Santa
How naughty you have been;
He won’t come down the chimney,
Or bring you anything.”

Next Christmas Day will soon pass by,
And I’ll be glad as I can be;
For then if I should every cry,
My mamma then won’t say to me:
“I’ll go and tell Old Santa
How naughty you have been;
He won’t come down the chimney,
Or bring you anything.”