Against my better judgement
I took my
young son to the store
And we
queued up for an hour
So, he
could see Santa Claus
The grotto
was cheap and nasty
It was a
terrible site to behold
I thought
the whole thing a rip off
And my son
thought he was too old
Santa’s
little helper was pregnant
The head
Elf was high as a kite
But I
thought if we stayed in line
Everything
would turn out alright
Well, he
climbed onto Santa’s lap
To tell him
his Christmas wish
But Santa
smelled of whisky
And his
trousers smelled of piss
It was
about making memories
Well,
according to my wife
But instead
of a memorable visit
I think we scarred him for life
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