'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was shitting, not even a mouse.
The dumping had been done (and flushed) in the toilet with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar cereal danced in their heads.
And Mama in her rollers and I had taken our crap,
and we just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed -- "NOW what the hell's the matter?"
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, almost knocked over my stash.
The moon shining down on the new-fallen snow
gave the hallucination of midday to objects below.
When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
but an old stinky sleigh and eight smelly reindeer.
With a little old driver, so disheveled and sick,
I wondered: is this a wino, or is it St. Nick?
More rapid than pit bulls, his shit deer they came,
and he screamed and he cursed and called them by name:
"Now Deuce! Now Dumper!
Now Poopy and Foopy!
On Crapper! On, Crusty!
On, Doodoo and Butthole!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now land right away!
Before I crap myself all!"
As liquishits that before the wild diarrhea fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the housetop the shit deer they flew,
with the sleigh full of burritos, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in an instant, I heard on the roof
the shitting and smearing from each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney he came with a gassy sound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his boot,
and his clothes were all tarnished and he let a big toot.
A bundle of toys he had flung 'cross the room,
and screamed, "Out of my way, dammit -- where's the bathroom!?!"
His eyes -- how they watered! He's tearing up my place!
His cheeks red like roses and I'm not talking about his face!
His dirty old mouth was twisted and sick,
his manners deplorable -- man, Santa's a dick!
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it smelled like it just might be hashish.
He had a broad face and a swollen round belly,
that rumbled as he said, "My butt's full of jelly!"
He was chubby and plump, a smelly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him; almost pissed on myself.
A twinkle in his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had plenty to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
filling the bowl, smearing the seat, and not flushing. (Jerk.)
And then, laying his finger aside of his nose,
gave a sniff, and up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh and told his team," Our work here is done!"
And away they went; didn't leave a toy -- not one!
He demolished my toilet and didn't even wipe!
But I heard him yell as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas, you shit -- you're out of butt wipe!"
