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 hes eating all my food and taking all my money

Why couldn't I just have met the darn Easter Bunny!