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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