"The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus," by Ogden Nash

Back in 1977, Norman Rockwell's Christmas Book was published.  My children and I love reading the stories and poems in this book.  Over time, I noticed, if doing a search online for "The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus," the poem had been changed by everyone who posted it.  I compared the verses to the original one in Rockwell's book and realized I like the first version much better and the very last couple of phrases were better left the way Nash wrote it.  I cannot find anywhere that states he changed this poem.  Sometimes, getting information online isn't always correct.  It is sad to see an original poem watered down from its original writing.  If I were the poet, I'd be sad.  How much have we lost that has been changed over time?

By Ogden Nash

In Baltimore there lived a boy.
He wasn't anybody's joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
His character was full of flaws.

In school he never led the classes,
He hid old ladies' reading glasses,
His mouth was open while he chewed,
And elbows to the table glued.
He stole the milk of hungry kittens,
And walked through doors marked NO ADMITTANCE.
He said he acted thus because
There wasn't any Santa Claus.

Another trick that tickled Jabez
Was crying “Boo!”' at little babies.
He brushed his teeth, they said in town,
Sideways instead of up and down.
Yet people pardoned every sin,
And viewed his antics with a grin,
Till they were told by Jabez Dawes,
“There isn't any Santa Claus!”

Deploring how he did behave,
His parents swiftly sought their grave.
They hurried through the portals pearly,
And Jabez left the funeral early.

Like whooping cough, from child to child,
He sped to spread the rumor wild:
“Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes
There isn't any Santa Claus!”
Slunk like a weasel of a marten
Through nursery and kindergarten,
Whispering low to every tot,

“There isn't any, no there's not!'
No twinkling eyes, no cherry nose,
No sleigh, and furthermore, by Jiminy,
Nobody coming down the chimney!”

The children wept all Christmas Eve
And Jabez chortled up his sleeve.
No infant dared hang up his stocking
For fear of Jabez' ribald mocking.

He sprawled on his untidy bed,
Fresh malice dancing in his head,
When presently with scalp-a-tingling,
Jabez heard a distant jingling;
He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof
Crisply alighting on the roof.
What good to rise and bar the door?
A shower of soot was on the floor.

Jabez beheld, oh, awe of awes,
The fireplace full of Santa Claus!
Then Jabez fell upon his knees
With cries of “Don't,” and “Pretty Please.”
He howled, “I don't know where you read it,
I swear some other fellow said it!”
“Jabez,” replied the angry saint,
“It isn't I, it's you that ain't.”
Although there is a Santa Claus,
There isn't any Jabez Dawes!'

Said Jabez then with impudent vim,
“Oh, yes there is, and I am him!
Your language don't scare me, it doesn’t—“
And suddenly he found he wasn't!
From grinning feet to unkempt locks,
Jabez became a Jack-in-the-box,
An ugly toy in Santa’s sack,
Mounting the flue on Santa’s back.

The neighbors heard his mournful squeal;
They searched for him, but not with zeal.
No trace was found of Jabez Dawes,
Which led to thunderous applause,
And people drank a loving cup
And went and hung their stockings up.

All you who sneer at Santa Claus,
Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes,
The saucy boy who told the saint off;
The child who got him, licked his paint off.