Christmas Waits

Christmas Waits.

By Katherine West.

       Dress four boys, or six, in a quaint costume, -- full knee-breeches, low shoes with bright buckles, tunic or doublet with white frills at the throat and wrist; a short full cape hanging from the shoulders, and soft caps with plumes. Old garments may be re-arranged to give a picturesque effect, or some new, inexpensive material bought. Each boy should have a voice of pleasing quality, and be taught the Christmas song perfectly.

       Arrange a frame like a window casement at the back of the platform a little to one side. Behind this let a light burn dimly until a signal is given for full illumination. If practicable, leave the rest of the stage and audience-room in darkness.

       The boys begin to sing behind closed doors, and are heard coming nearer singing the first verse of " On this Happy Birthday." They enter and approach the center of the platform. The casement is thrown open and half a dozen children's heads appear. There is a clapping of hands till the second verse is begun by the waits. At the last line the children throw out pennies and candies wrapped in paper. The singers scramble for them, and then give the third verse of the carol. The fourth verse may be sung as the boys move away and disappear in the distance. As a preliminary to this little performance a few words may be said about the old English custom of the waits coming to sing under the windows on Christmas eve.

On This Happy Birthday by Mrs. Charlotte B. Merritt and Mrs. Sarah L. Warner sheet music.

Mr. St. Nicholas

Mr. St. Nicholas.

By Alice M. Kellogg.
edited and updated version

(The characters are Old-fashioned Santa Claus, dressed in the traditional costume of fur, white beard, and a Christmas pack ; Mr. St. Nicholas, in evening dress with silk hat ; Dora, Katie, Maggie, and little Bess; Harry, Charlie, Tom, and John in ordinary school clothes. The scene opens with a large fireplace arranged at the center of the platform, a dark curtain drawn before the opening to conceal Santa Claus. The accompaniment to "Nancy Lee" is heard, and the eight children march in, carrying their stockings.)

Oh, Christmas time has come again,
Tra la la la, tra la la la;
We welcome it with glad refrain,
Tra la la la la la.

Of all the happy holidays this year
There's none so joyous, none so dear,
Then sing we all our song of festive glee,
Of Santa Claus and Christmas tree.

Chorus. -- Oh, ring the bells, the merry Christmas bells,
Their music all our pleasure tells.

(Repeat, singing tra la la whenever necessary to give the rhythm. They pause in groups in center --

right, and left ; some sit, others stand, and change their positions during the dialogue)

Harry: Oh dear, the same old thing again this year, I suppose ! " Hang up the baby's stocking, be sure you don't forget."

Charlie: This baby's stocking is the biggest bicycle hose I could buy. (Pins it at one side of the chimney.) I don't think old Santa could miss it if he tried.

Dora: I made mine to suit the occasion, for I hope Santa Claus will fit a zither into it. (Displays a large, fantastically shaped stocking of striking color, and fastens it beside Charlie 's.)

Harry: You ought to take a prize, Dora, for designing the most -- ahem! -- unexpected-looking

stocking. Generous sized, too! Here goes my contribution to the chimney.    (Hangs up a sock.)

It's big enough to hold a coin of gold that will buy me a new bicycle. I don't care for any knick-knacks.

Katie: I must confess that I'm rather tired of this old custom of hanging up our stockings on Christmas eve and crawling out of bed in the cold dawn to see what is in them. I wish some one

would invent a new way.

Maggie: Just what I thought, Katie, last winter, though I never spoke of it. But if you've hung your stocking up, I must have mine there too. (Goes to chimney.)

John: Well, I refuse to fall in line this year. I'm tired of the whole plan. It seems absurd for an old chap to come tumbling down the fireplace and load up our stockings.

Tom: I agree with you, John! What we want is a new-fashioned Christmas. A real, up-to-date Santa Claus, and no more of this children's nonsense.

Bess: Not have Santa Claus any more ? Isn't he coming to-night ? (Cries.)

John: Oh yes, he'll remember you if you're a good little girl and stop crying. Dora, help Bess to fasten up her stocking.

(After the stocking is fixed, Bess faces the audience and recites.)

Bess: I do hope dear old Santa

Will come this way to-night,

And come here to my stocking,

To fill it nice and tight.

I'd like to watch and see him,

But I know I must wait

Till shines the Christmas sunshine --

I hope he won't be late.

Tom: Let Bess have her old-fashioned Santa Claus, but the rest of us vote for something different.

Harry: I used to think Santa a pretty jolly old duffer, who made lots of sport for the infants, but I'm ready for a change myself.

Dora: Don't count me in to help out your majority; Santa Claus seems to me the kindly spirit of Christmas appearing mysteriously to give us greater pleasure.

Katie: Well, I'll side with the boys this time, and see if there is any improvement in holiday matters.

Charlie: You'll think me a baby to stick to the old style. I won't venture an opinion at all.

Tom: Then we are agreed that of Santa Claus we have no need.

John, Katie, Harry and Maggie: "Tis what we all concede." 
(All sing to the tune of ' ' Maryland, My Maryland.")

Old Santa Claus is such a bore,

Of him we've had too much and more ;

Now what we want is something new,

But what is there for us to do ?

A new St. Nick would be the thing,

Who would our Christmas presents bring.

(Electric bell sounds, the door opens, and Mr. St. Nicholas comes on the stage. He bows and takes

off his hat. He's wearing modern clothing)

Mr. St. N.: Good evening, young people! I see you are at your old-time tricks of hanging up your

stockings. This won't do. Don't you know it's gone out of fashion? (Goes toward fireplace; the boys

rush to protect their property.)

John: Who are you, sir? And how dare you interfere with our fun?

Mr. St. N.: I am the new, up-to-the-times Santa Claus. My proper name is Mr. St. Nicholas. I am on my rounds to take the names of all the young people who deserve a remembrance at Christmas time. I haven't a moment to lose. My e-mail is overburdened with messages, my men are distracted with the work to be done between now and daylight. (Pulls out a cell phone and appears to text while he speaks rapidly without waiting for a reply to Tom) Your name, young man? Your age, birthplace, parents' names? Residence? Attendant at what school? What specific tastes? List of last year's presents. Make haste, time is money.

Katie: But Santa -- I mean Mr. St. Nicholas --here are our stockings.

Mr. St. N.: Christmas stockings! trash and nonsense. They belong to the dark ages.

Harry: Pray, how do you bestow your gifts?

Mr. St. N.: By district messenger service, of course! Next boy (to Charlie), give me your name,

age, birthplace, parents' names, residence, school, specific tastes, last year's presents.

Charlie: How did you come here, Mr. St. Nicholas? I heard no sleigh-bells at the door.

Mr. St. N. (scornfully): More nonsense to explain. I came down from the north pole in an airplane. Come, now, here are these girls waiting to be classified. (To Dora.) Name, age

Dora: I won't be put in statistics, even if it is Christmas and you are the patron saint.

Charlie: Nor I. I didn't vote for any improvements. Take them away.

John: You seem a trifle ahead of the age, Mr. St. Nicholas, or else we made a great mistake in

being discontented with our old-fashioned Christmas.

Tom: Allow me to book you another flight.

(Mr. St. Nicholas is ushered to the door. The others turn back at the sound of sleigh-bells. Santa

Claus appears at the fireplace. He is dressed in the traditional red suit, trimmed with white fur.)

Children: (greeting him with enthusiasm): Jolly old Saint Nicholas!

Santa Claus: Oh ! ho ! ha ! ha ! Are you really glad to see such an old-fashioned specimen as I am?

John: Indeed we are! We have just shown your usurper the door.

Bess (clasping S. C.'s hand): You are the real Santa Claus.

Santa Clans: Yes, I am the real Santa Claus, and I cannot get to work until you children are fast

asleep. So scurry away as fast as you can, and a merry, merry Christmas when you awake!

(Santa Claus unpacks his goods, and as he fills the stockings he performs various antics, holds up the objects, and dances about, Any local expressions that will create amusement he can bring in with running commentaries. The piano is heard softly till he is through, and then bursts out loudly as the curtain is drawn.)

Father Christmas's Message

Father Christmas's Message. 

By J. A. Atkinson

(This speech may be given at the close of a Christmas entertainment. A white wig and beard, fur coat and gloves are worn, and sleigh-bells are sounded before Father Christmas appears on the platform.)

Here I am again. The close of the year

Brings Old Father Christmas with his good cheer.

I'm cheery myself, and cheery I make

All folks who follow advice for my sake.

My advice is the same to all my friends :

Give and forgive, and quickly make amends

For what you do wrong. Let love be the rule.

Christians, be true at the season of Yule.

Old Father Christmas every one welcomes ;

I bring peace and happiness to all homes.

Away with the bad. Have nothing but good.

Do what I tell you. If only you would,

You'd all live at one in true brotherhood.

I always brighten up all hearts. The spell

Of Christmas can all gloomy thoughts dispel.

My friends, right pleased am I to see you here.

How are you all ? Pray come again next year.

I hope you've liked the fun we've had to-night ;

If so, then now applaud with all your might.

Santa Claus

Santa Claus.

By Julia C. R. Dorr.

 

(Let the first line be given by a small boy as a herald, carrying a trumpet, and dressed in tunic, tights, and velvet cap. The second line is taken up by Santa Claus, in costume of fur, with white beard and hair.)

A voice from out of the northern sky :

" On the wings of the limitless winds I fly,

Swifter than thought, over mountain and vale,

City and moorland, desert and dale !

From the north to the south, from the east to the west,

I hasten regardless of slumber or rest ;

O, nothing you dream of can fly as fast

As I on the wings of the windy blast !

" The wondering stars look out to see

Who he that flieth so fast may be,

And their bright eyes follow my earthward track

By the gleam of the jewels I bear in my pack.

For I have treasures for high and for low :

Rubies that burn like the sunset glow ;

Diamond rays for the crowned queen ;

For the princess, pearls with their silver sheen.

" I enter the castle with noiseless feet --

The air is silent and soft and sweet ;

And I lavish my beautiful tokens there --

Fairings to make the fair more fair !

I enter the cottage of want and woe --

The candle is dim and the fire burns low ;

But the sleepers smile in a happy dream

As I scatter my gifts by the moon's pale beam.

" There's never a home so low, no doubt,

But I in my flight can find it out ;

Not a hut so hidden but I can see

The shadow cast by the lone roof-tree !

There's never a home so proud and high

That I am constrained to pass it by,

Nor a heart so happy it may not be

Happier still when blessed by me !

" What is my name ? Ah, who can tell,

Though in every land 'tis a magic spell ?

Men call me that, and they call me this ;

Yet the different names are the same, I wis !

Gift-bearer to all the world am I,

Joy-giver, light-bringer, where'er I fly ;

But the name I bear in the courts above,

My truest and holiest name, is -- Love ! "

Winter's Children

Winter's Children.

By j. D. Moore.

(The children should wear some indication of the several characters they impersonate. Most elaborate and beautiful costumes might be used, but the simple device of a placard upon each child's breast bearing the name of his part will answer the purpose.)

Wind: I come from the cold and stormy North,

With a rush and a roar I hurry forth,

I toss from the trees the dead leaves down,

The withered leaves all sere and brown,

And sway the branches to and fro

As on my way I whirling go.

At crack and crevice I slip in,

And make a lively sounding din.

Swift I come and swift away,

With you I can no longer stay,

For I am wanted elsewhere now,

And so good-bye, I make my bow,

Frost [taking Wind's hand):

Hand in hand we ever go

Through the season to and fro.

I breathe upon the streams. They cease

Their murmurings and are at peace.

Upon each window pane I trace

The finest filmy glistening lace.

Each boy and girl, 'tis plain to see,

Hath still a welcome kind for me.

For on the lake they whirl and wheel,

You hear the click of polished steel

As swift upon their skates they fly

With joyous heart and flashing eye.

My breath blows cold. Health, joy, delight,

Follow my silvery sparkles bright.

Now Snow, who is my guardian sweet,

Will all my young friends fondly greet.

Snow (a little girl):

Over the earth so bare and brown

I spread a robe as soft as down.

Drifting, drifting down through space,

Hiding each unsightly place,

Touched to shimmering radiance bright,

In the moonbeam's mellow light,

By my brother Frost, for we (they join hands)

Both go hand in hand, you see.

North Wind goes gaily with us both,

To help us he is nothing loath.

And he and Frost and Rain combine

To give what in the clear sunshine

Shimmers sparkling -- pure and nice,

Transparent, white, and glistening Ice.

Ice: I cling to lofty gables, I rustle 'mid the snow,

I weave a gleaming covering

For lakes and streams. They know

That all must cease their murmuring

When Frost and I appear,

For we will hold them firm and fast

As long as we are here.,

Gleaming, glistening, sparkling,

Yet pure and clear and bright.

You'll find me 'neath a silver moon,

Each crisp, fresh winter night.

(Enter Old Winter)

Winter: What, ho ! my children, here I am,

I've sought you everywhere.

And now to busy work away,

For you must all prepare

To do your duty while I hold

In check your enemy,

The great round sun, whose rays with you,

My children, disagree.

Now up, away ! Wind, to the west

And come again in glee ;

And join with Frost and Snow and Ice,

In one grand jubilee.

And paint the cheeks with roses

Of all these children who,

Right joyously will run and shout,

My children dear, with you.

Away ! to work, you must not shirk

Your duties, dears ; and now,

To these, your firmest friends, make each

Your most engaging bow.

(All bow and retire Old Winter following.)