This poem was inspired by a letter published in the Bend Bulletin (Oregon) in hopes of locating the child, Thad. (According to the postmark it was mailed from Bend, Oregon.) To my knowledge, they never located this family. There are many 'Thad's' here in America; let's not forget them.
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Dear Santa Clas . . . take me away
It’s cold but we’ve no heat today
For Christmas take me to Heven
So mommy won’t give me her food
Don’t bring toys . . . I’m not in the mood
Mom is skiney; she doesn’t eat
Beans and potatoes would be neat
I’ve lived long enough . . . I’m seven
Angels don’t need things anymore
They help each other and the poor
Wen you give dad work or money
And bring mommy food and honey
(Let’s wait until I see their face)
I’ll go with you and the rain deer
Wen Christmas comes around this year.
Sory we’ve no cookies or milk
I’m giving you my ragged quilt
Kids die each day . . . give me ones’ place
My folks need food; I’m wasting space
Their love for me won’t go to waste
Thad