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James Whitcomb Riley - A Feel In The Chris`mas-Air
Work rating: Low

They`s a kind o` _feel_ in the air, to me.
    When the Chris`mas-times sets in.
That`s about as much of a mystery
  As ever I`ve run ag`in!--
Fer instunce, now, whilse I gain in weight
  And gineral health, I swear
They`s a _goneness_ somers I can`t quite state--
  A kind o` _feel_ in the air.

They`s a feel in the Chris`mas-air goes right
  To the spot where a man _lives_ at!--
It gives a feller a` appetite--
  They ain`t no doubt about _that_!--
And yit they`s _somepin_`--I don`t know what--
  That follers me, here and there,
And ha`nts and worries and spares me not--
  A kind o` feel in the air!

They`s a _feel_, as I say, in the air that`s jest
  As blame-don sad as sweet!--
In the same ra-sho as I feel the best
  And am spryest on my feet,
They`s allus a kind o` sort of a` _ache_
  That I can`t lo-cate no-where;--
But it comes with _Chris`mas_, and no mistake!--
  A kind o` feel in the air.

Is it the racket the childern raise?--
  W`y, _no_!--God bless `em!--_no_!--
Is it the eyes and the cheeks ablaze--
  Like my _own_ wuz, long ago?--
Is it the bleat o` the whistle and beat
  O` the little toy-drum and blare
O` the horn?--_No! no!_--it is jest the sweet--
  The sad-sweet feel in the air.
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