The Night Before Christmas with F'd Up Santa

Twat the night before Santa and all through our shanty,
Not a creature was stirring after all of that brandy,

Some tube socks were hung by the chimney with class
Maybe Santa would bring me some hot piece of ass                                                       

The kids were all hammered, passed out in their beds

Pounding those beers had gone straight to their heads

And ma in her panties and I with the lotion

Had just settled down for some sexual motion

When outside it sounded like a hobo parade
I tried to ignore it in hopes I’d get laid

But the look on her face was no longer naughty,                                              
So I got my ass up and reached for my shotty

                                                     

It was darker than hell and I couldn’t see shit                                      

So I fired at random in hopes that I’d hit


When my mouth dropped open to say “what the f***”
It looked like 8 horses tied to a red monster truck


Fat, red and drinking – I figured it out

This was F'd Up Santa as he looked up to shout

Slower than hell and probably deaf
The beasts nearly fell from the smell on his breath

“Now Johnny, now Jim, pour me some Jack,
[I’m] On acid! On shroomers! On weed and on crack!”

“To the top of the roof, to the top of the moon
Shit! The mushrooms are turning, we need to leave soon”

And then it was me who thought he was high,
How the f*** did that Ford get up in the sky

He couldn’t land for shit as he crashed on the roof  
No surprise since his beverage was 180 Proof

The sounds from above – I couldn’t believe,
It sounded like the horses were starting to breed

As I ran back inside reloading the Remy
It sounded like an elephant raping our chimney

There he stood in a bathrobe with a dirty mustache

His clothes were all burnt as he stood smoking some hash

He should have been carrying a bundle of toys,
But all he had with him was a pack of tallboys,

His pupils were dilated, his smile was creepy
His nose was still bleeding, no way he was sleepy

His mouth was curled like he was in pain
And the white in his beard was probably cocaine

A ciggy half burnt hung from his grill
And in his left hand was a bottle of swill

His face was a wreck and his belly was worse
A disgusting big bif that would flop as he’d curse

He was stoned, drunk and high; not bad for an elf
But looking at him made me want to shoot myself

A twitch of his eye and a twist of his head,
This guy was higher than the fans of the Dead

He made a faint grunt and went right to his job,
He pulled down his pants revealing his shlong

And what he did next was so god damn shocking,
Taking his time he filled each of our stockings

And with a scratch at his nose as if jonesing for more
He pulled up his pants and ran for the door

He stumbled inside and turning the engine on
Skipping the driveway he drove straight through our lawn

And as he began to swerve out into the night

He stuck his head out the window and made such a sight

Puking up cookies, some milk and eggnog

He gave me the finger and ran over our dog

He gurgled and sputtered and finally said

“Merry Christmas you hosers, I’m headed to bed”