'Twas the night before Christmas, like anyone could care,
And all bets were off if old Santa'd be there.
Now this year'd be different, due to the hard times,
So I thought I would present you with my own Christmas rhyme.
There are no wool stockings hung up on the mantle,
It seems they were needed on feet for example,
Because of the prices of fuel oil and gases,
And wood fires were banned by those green power asses.
Santa was missing a reindeer or two,
It seems that he shot them and they became stew.
He used all his food stamps to buy eggnog and beer,
And got really soused long before the New Year.
Instead of the cookies and milk he expected,
He found I.O.U. notes of human rights so neglected.
There would be no lavish or fancy new toys,
No matter if they all had been good girls and boys.
Santa's poor elves had been long unemployed,
Their benefits ran out, Mrs. Claus was annoyed,
They too felt affected by the economy's crunch,
And a few looked at Rudolph like he'd be their next lunch.
Santa looked trim from his year eating crow,
As his nights had been filled with his three little ho's,
His red suit had fallen far down past his knees,
I surely do hope that his bag doesn't freeze.
I heard poor old Santa's mortgage came due,
And the jolly old elf loan just got him screwed,
The balloon payment demanded he go bankrupt soon,
And the grinch drooled delighted that foreclosure's at noon.
Mommy can't wait to kiss Santa this year,
At least he's employed and brings home the beer,
Her husband is out seeking spare change and food,
And those nights all alone put her well in the mood.
Instead of a tree this year folks are trimming,
Extras and presents as futures are dimming,
The stock market looks like it just might come back,
To what I don't know, for it's the jobs that are lacked.
Bin Laden and health care and green energy,
Global's been warming, and the snow's past our knees,
Raises and bonuses are in the wings,
For Congress, the Senate, and big business's thing.
I heard even Santa's old job was farmed out,
Jolly old Buddah now exports toys no doubt,
And we will be buying those plastic do-dads,
That go on our trees, must they be colored in plaid?
A sad state of affairs if you must know my view,
We have far more problems than presents it's true,
At least we have health care to take to our beds,
As visions of A-bombs explode in our heads.
I wonder if there is a chance I could get,
To steal St. Nick's job, my best prospect yet,
I'm overweight, bearded, and older than dirt,
And I'm willing to work 'round the world as a flirt.
I wonder if Santa can bring Christmas jobs,
To the little kids parents instead of just sobs,
If he can I'd elect him at least for eight years,
After all he has food stamps and plenty of beer.
So to all of the faithful who sit round the fire,
Telling tales of the elf whose generosity inspires,
Remember that all down throughout history clear,
Just nine more days left 'til a new tax season's here.
And I from my window affixed to my tent,
Will be keeping an eye on where the year up and went,
Knowing no matter how bleak things might seem,
There's always next Christmas for all our best dreams.
Author - Unknown
And all bets were off if old Santa'd be there.
Now this year'd be different, due to the hard times,
So I thought I would present you with my own Christmas rhyme.
There are no wool stockings hung up on the mantle,
It seems they were needed on feet for example,
Because of the prices of fuel oil and gases,
And wood fires were banned by those green power asses.
Santa was missing a reindeer or two,
It seems that he shot them and they became stew.
He used all his food stamps to buy eggnog and beer,
And got really soused long before the New Year.
Instead of the cookies and milk he expected,
He found I.O.U. notes of human rights so neglected.
There would be no lavish or fancy new toys,
No matter if they all had been good girls and boys.
Santa's poor elves had been long unemployed,
Their benefits ran out, Mrs. Claus was annoyed,
They too felt affected by the economy's crunch,
And a few looked at Rudolph like he'd be their next lunch.
Santa looked trim from his year eating crow,
As his nights had been filled with his three little ho's,
His red suit had fallen far down past his knees,
I surely do hope that his bag doesn't freeze.
I heard poor old Santa's mortgage came due,
And the jolly old elf loan just got him screwed,
The balloon payment demanded he go bankrupt soon,
And the grinch drooled delighted that foreclosure's at noon.
Mommy can't wait to kiss Santa this year,
At least he's employed and brings home the beer,
Her husband is out seeking spare change and food,
And those nights all alone put her well in the mood.
Instead of a tree this year folks are trimming,
Extras and presents as futures are dimming,
The stock market looks like it just might come back,
To what I don't know, for it's the jobs that are lacked.
Bin Laden and health care and green energy,
Global's been warming, and the snow's past our knees,
Raises and bonuses are in the wings,
For Congress, the Senate, and big business's thing.
I heard even Santa's old job was farmed out,
Jolly old Buddah now exports toys no doubt,
And we will be buying those plastic do-dads,
That go on our trees, must they be colored in plaid?
A sad state of affairs if you must know my view,
We have far more problems than presents it's true,
At least we have health care to take to our beds,
As visions of A-bombs explode in our heads.
I wonder if there is a chance I could get,
To steal St. Nick's job, my best prospect yet,
I'm overweight, bearded, and older than dirt,
And I'm willing to work 'round the world as a flirt.
I wonder if Santa can bring Christmas jobs,
To the little kids parents instead of just sobs,
If he can I'd elect him at least for eight years,
After all he has food stamps and plenty of beer.
So to all of the faithful who sit round the fire,
Telling tales of the elf whose generosity inspires,
Remember that all down throughout history clear,
Just nine more days left 'til a new tax season's here.
And I from my window affixed to my tent,
Will be keeping an eye on where the year up and went,
Knowing no matter how bleak things might seem,
There's always next Christmas for all our best dreams.
Author - Unknown
