That's How You Know Santa is Coming

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That's How You Know Santa is Coming

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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the streets All the buttpigs were snoring, they'd et too much cheese; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, and so was St. Nicholas, rock hard in the air; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, and they're not involved in this, don't be a pest; Leather-mum in her apron, and I in my mask, and when I say chimney, I do mean my ass; Our reverie disturbed by an outside noise, I sprang from my sling as I was expecting the boys; Away to the window I ran like an ox, My christmas baubles wobbling like michael j fox; When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer, Or maybe just twinks in a leather veneer, I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick, Based on the white pubes and the jolly red... Look I think you know where I'm going with this. A lot of the original poem is quite gay anyway, I suggest you go read that one. Merry Christmas.

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