They say that Santa's coming,
He comes 'round every year.
He comes he'll meet a shotgun slug
'cause he ain't welcome here.
Five years ago this Christmas
The fatass came around
With jingle bells and ho ho hos
And looking like a clown.
He came in for a landing
As I let out a yawn
My house is pretty little
So he landed on the lawn.
I didn't have the time to yell
As he came through the fog;
He came in fast and and came down hard
And landed on my dog.
He looked around all furtive like
As I reached for my gun,
Then grabbed the reins, yelled giddie up,
And took off on the run.
And so, that fatassed bastard
Better stay away from here
'cause ever since he killed my dog
I have no Christmas cheer.
December 1, 2016


The Old Sayings Are Wrong

mcgrew publishing