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Old Santeclaus: Poem by Clement Clarke Moore

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But where I found the children naughty,
In manners rude, in temper haughty,
Thankless to parents, liars, swearers,
Boxers, or cheats, or base tale-bearers,

I left a long, black, birchen rod,
Such as the dread command of God
Directs a Parent's hand to use
When virtue's path his sons refuse.

Analysis of this poem
  • time

More verses by Clement Clarke Moore

  • Account Of A Visit From St. Nicholas
  • A Visit From St. Nicholas
  • The Pig And The Rooster

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