Christmas Goose Twas at an inn in Manchester: "The Cornstalks" was the sign, A famous public where commercials used to stop and dine. A traveler, one Christmas eve -- so long had been his use -- Stopped in to spend his holiday and choose his Christmas goose. All around the greenwood, so early in the morn, The merry, merry huntsman blows his silver bugle horn. He sipped his pint of sherry wine and smoked his mild cigar, He chatted with the customers and people at the bar, And not a thought of wickedness here entered in his head, Until the chambermaid appeared, to light him up to bed. At length he grew so amorous, he hugged her on the stairs, He kissed her at the chamber door before he said his prayers. He gave to her a guinea to prevent her being vexed, And then he blew the candle out, and you can guess what next. Next Christmas time came round again, which filled his heart with glee, He wandered round from town to town, and strange sights did he see. Till he ended up in Manchester, and put up for the night At The Cornstalks, which twelve months before had filled him with delight. He walked into the coffee-room, as jaunty as can be, Where many a rooster like himself was waiting for his tea. He ordered of the very best the landlord could produce, Then called the waiter back to say, "Now don't forget the goose." Right speedily a tray was brought, with eatables galore, And by the selfsame chambermaid he'd kissed twelve months before. But, nothing loath, he raised the cloth, whereon a heap was piled, Instead of eatables thereon, was a big fat bumping child. Enraged at seeing the others laugh, "What is this here?" said he. "Come sit you down beside me, and I'll tell you, Sir," said she. "Last Christmas you so generous was -- nay, do not look so strange: You gave to me a guinea, and I've brought you back your change." ... -> Arthur Howard -> Anabel Graetz -> ... --