There were tops for the whip, there were tops for the string,
There were tops that would hum, there were tops that would
sing;
There were hoops made of iron and hoops made of wood,
And hoop-sticks to match them, as strong and as good;
There were books full of pictures and books full of rhymes,
There were songs for the seasons and tales for the times;
Pen-knives and pen-wipers, pencils and slates,
Wheelers and rockers and rollers and skates;
Bags full of marbles and boxes of bricks,
And bundles and bundles of canes and of sticks.

There were “prams” for the girls, there were “trams” for the
boys,
And thousands of clever mechanical toys,—­
Engines and carriages running on rails,
Steamers and sailers that carry the mails;
Flags of all nations, and ships for all seas—­
The Red Sea, the Black Sea, or what sea you please—­
That tick it by clockwork or puff it by steam,
Or outsail the weather or go with the stream;
Carriages drawn by a couple of bays,
’Buses and hansoms, and waggons and drays,
Coaches and curricles, rallis and gigs—­
All sorts of wheelers, with all sorts of rigs.

      Cricket and croquet, and bat, trap, and ball,
      And tennis—­but really the list would appal. 
      There were balls for the mouth, there were balls for the feet,
      There were balls you could play with and balls you could eat,
      There were balls made of leather and balls made of candy,
      Balls of all sizes, from footballs to brandy.

      And then came the boxes of curious games,
      With all sorts of objects and all sorts of names,—­
      Lotto and Ludo, the Fox and the Geese,
      Halma and Solitaire—­all of a piece;
      Go-bang and Ringolette, Hook-it and Quoits,
      For junior endeavours and senior exploits;
      And Skittles and Spellicans, Tiddle-de-winks—­
      But one mustn’t mention the half that one thinks;
      Chessmen and draughtsmen, and hoards upon hoards
      Of chess and backgammon and bagatelle boards;
      And boxes of dominoes, boxes of dice,
      And boxes of tricks you can try in a trice.

      And Santa Claus went with his wonderful load
      Through street after street, and through road after road,
      And crept through the keyholes—­or some other way;
      He got down the chimneys—­so some people say: 
      But, one way or other, he managed to creep
      Where all the good children were lying asleep;
      And when he got there, all the stockings in rows
      That were ready hung up he cramm’d full to the toes
      With the many good things he had brought with the day
      From over the hills and far away.