by an anoymous author

It was the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks
I have good mind to scrap the whole works.

Iíve busted my ass for damn near a year.
Instead of ĄThanks Santaď - what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night
The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better.
Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter.

They say I owe taxes - if that ainít damn funny.
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?
And the kids these days - they are all the pits
They want the impossible...Those mean little shits.

I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yoís - No request for them
They want computers and robots... they think Iím IBM!

If you think thatís bad...just picture this
Try holding those brats...with their pants full of piss
They pull on my nose - they grab at my beard
And if I donít smile...parents think Iím weird.

Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
Iím quitting this job...thereís just no employment.
Iíll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.

Thereís no Christmas this you know the reason.
I found me a blonde...Iím going SOUTH for the season!!

 This poem was sent to me from my dear friend Jeanne.  Thank you, Jeanne!