I saw a little old man travelling down the street
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A pair of black boots were on his feet
He had a long white beard and soft white hair
He seemed to be walking on air.
His cheeks were chubby, rosy and red
He wore a bright cap upon his head
Little gold glasses were perched on his nose
Who could he be? Do you suppose?
This stout, little man turned to walk away
I couldn't make out what he was trying to say
There was no mistaking what trailed from his pocket
I began to feel like a New Year's rocket.
A list of names, each marked with a tick
I could see this man did not miss a trick
I knew from experience - as everyone should
That he would always know the bad from the good.
And as this little man strolled away
A special kind of wonder encircled the day
I had to catch my breath as my heart beat quick
I knew I had seen Jolly Old St. Nick.