But our presents were wrapped and secreted with care, in case curious children should see them somewhere.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of Wii-U games danced in their heads.
And mama in her teddy, and me in my hat and just settled in for a nice winter's "nap".
When out in the street there arose such a clatter, I sprung out of bed to see what was the matter.
I tore open the shutter and threw open the sash, and what did I see but a horrible crash.
The moon on the crust of my un-shovelled snow gave light to the tussle far down below.
And what to my still blooshot eyes (see below) should appear, than 2 withered old men fighting over a beer!
Then one drunken driver got really sick, and I knew goddamn well it wasn't St. Nick.
More rapid than coursers his curses they came, but they were so vile that that the words I can't name.
"You ****er, You ****ole, You ****head You ******. "Oh damnit, I'm drunken, You ****ing damn ******er.
I have puked on the porch, I have barfed on the wall. Go clean it up, clean it up, clean it up all.
Then he did something I'd never try, he got in his car and again tried to make it fly!
He crashed with such violence he did take to the sky, and up to my roof top his Mazda did fly.
With the drunken old man, who was really sick, too.
Then I heard some new noises from up on the roof, and I wished that he'd fall, the stupid old goof. I was turning to go when I heard a new sound.
He'd tripped, and came down my chimney and, fell drunk to the ground.
He was dressed up in tatters from his head to his foot. And needless to say, he was covered in soot!
He swore once again "Oh, my poor ****in' back". He looked like a hobo, strung out on crack.
His eyes they were bloodshot, some teeth he was missing. His cheeks they were rosy, all bloodshot from drinking.
His horrible mouth all drawn up in a sneer made me wish that my shotgun was somewhere quite near.
The stump of a spliff he had clenched in his few teeth, while the stench of pot smoke circled us both like a wreath.
With his unpleasant face and massive beer belly, I knew the old fart would be really quite smelly.
He was fat and disgusting, the stupid old elf, and I retched at the sight of him in spite of myself.
With a leer in his eye and a really limp wrist, I couldn't wait to get rid of this pest.
He spoke not a word, but went right to work. Then pulled out his Willy and gave it a jerk!
Then laying a coke spoon upside his nose, took a really big hit and up the chimney he rose.
He leaped back in his Mazda as cop sirens whistled, the drove off my roof, and crashed in some thistle.
And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight "I wish I hadn't been so pissed up tonight"
With apologies to Clement Moore: Merry Christmas!
'Nuff said.
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