I sing of Pieter Dundervelt
In quaint New Amsterdam who dwelt

And loved a maid in beauty's bloom —
Annette DeVries von Schlagenboom.

Like all true lovers, more or less,
Our Piet inclined to bashfulness,

And when he should have pressed his suit
Was silent, speechless, dumb, and mute.

'Twas drawing near that night of nights
When good Saint Nicholas delights

To ride with gifts for old and young,
When backward Pieter found his tongue.

" Oh, will you deign, Annette, " said he,
" To take a Yuletide gift from me? "

Annette, without a thought of ill,
Replied, in Dutch, " Of course I will! "

Saint Nicholas with reindeer sleigh
Had made his rounds and gone his way,

And fair Annette, while others slept,
On tiptoe down the stairway crept

Before the dawn, her only thought
To see what gifts the Saint had brought.

And there a marvel met her eyes!
A stocking, not of common size,

But six feet long and even more
Now hung where hers had hung before,

Beneath the kitchen mantel-shelf,
And snug within was Piet himself!

The situation seemed absurd;
Annette, however, kept her word;

That is, to make the tale complete,
She took her gift and married Piet.