Spending some time being Benchleyesque to rhyme
Just how good do I have to be?
I met Santa on the corner just the other day
He asked me for a dollar and said he had no place to stay
I invited him back to my house and fixed him up some food
Then I told him to remember that I'd been extra good
He asked if he could stay awhile as he had no place to be
I guess I was quite flattered that he wanted to visit with me
But now I can't help wondering if this Santa's true
Wouldn't Santa take a bath? I think he would, don't you?
And I've been thinking, I know this may sound dumb
Why would dear old Santa be drinking so much rum?
Santa's filled with attitude, not jolly Christmas cheer
And who would ever think that his favorite meat was deer?
He seems to swear an awful lot and belches when he eats
He has gobs of tickets from pawnshops and warts upon his feet
All my booze has disappeared and when I asked him where'd it go?
He just kind of acted weird and screamed out “Ho, ho, ho!”
He keeps me awake all night and I wish that he would leave
But when I hint about it, he says I don't believe
And if I kicked out Santa and put him on the streets
He would never ever again send me any Christmas treats
This is such a dilemma, the choices seem so bad
He can't stay, but if he goes I know that he'll be mad
But he’s eating all my food and taking all my money
Why couldn't I just have met the darn Easter Bunny!