I'm Always Glad When Christmas Comes, And Yet I'd Like It Better; If Mother Wouldn't Bother Me To Write A Christmas Letter To Uncle John And Cousin Kate And Dear Old Grand-Aunt Gray, And All Whose Presents Come To Me From Places Far Away. Of Course I Love My Presents, And If Givers Should Forget Her, No Little Girl, My Mother Says, Need Write A Christmas Letter. For Oh! My Ink Makes Awful Blots, Though I Try To Do Real Well, And When You Write Them Out Of School, All Words Are Hard To Spell. I Mean To Mind My Mother, SHe's So Kind I Would Not Fret Her, But When She Says, "Stop Playing, Dear. Come, Write This Christmas Letter," That's Just The Thing I Hate To Hear, And If I Dared, I Wouldn't Remember How To Hold A Pen, I'd Make Believe I Couldn't.