‘Twas the night after Christmas and all through the house tiny creatures were stirring, maybe even a mouse. The stockings were empty by the attic with envy, as poor little Timmy didn’t get any.

The children were all nestled in their beds, except for Timmy who was up instead. When out on the lawn there was no such clatter, there was nothing the matter. So Timmy lie down in hopes to see a forgotten Christmas present left under the tree.

As he slept through the night he tossed and turned, but halfway through the night he awoke form his slumber. All through the house, he looked to see, if Santa had left any presents for little Timmy. He looked by the door, by the stairs, by the chimney. But still, his eyes were so full of envy.

As he awoke the next day, he went outside to play. He headed down to the barn, where there he found his guitar. On the strings it read,”Sorry little Timmy, to see you with such envy. Maybe this will cheer you up, I hope it’s enough!”