Of Santa there is neither sight or sound
It’s turned midnight, and he’s not around
I’m wondering what sins that I committed
To make me a pariah, one of the omitted.
Dear Santa, I’m condemned without a trial
And I am very sad that this is your style
That you’d simply strike me off your list
Because earlier this year I got a bit pissed.
Well if that’s going to be your fucking attitude
I’m going to get shit-faced and act really rude
Sing loud songs and upset my neighbour above
As between the two of us there is a lack of love.
So, as far as next year is fucking concerned
I don’t give a monkey’s if again I’m spurned
As my faith in you is being seriously tested
I hope next Xmas Eve the skies are congested.