The horses, I mean, this year;
Let the big tree in the public square
Be weighted with Yuletide cheer.
Send word to the drivers of Boston
That the date be not forgot;
Bid each bring his beast to the Christmas feast
In the same old well-known spot.
A tree for the work-worn horses,
Tired horses that plod the street;
Who earn their way with no other pay
Than a bed and a bite to eat.
O, give them a royal welcome
To a banquet of warming food;
Let them eat until they have had their fill
Of the things a horse finds good.
A bigger and better Christmas
For the horses of Boston town;
For the big tree there in the public square
Is a star in the city's crown.
Maude Wood Henry
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