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| CRaPUSA |
(The Bikers)Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad, There was nada happenin', now thats pretty bad. The woodstove was hung up in that stocking routine, In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene. With our stomachs packed with tacos and beer, My girl and I crashed on the couch for some cheer. When out in the yard there arose such a racket, I ran for the door and pulled on my jacket. I saw a large bro' on a '56 Pan Wearin' black leathers, a cap, and boots (cool biker, man). He hauled up the bars on that bikeful of sacks, And that Pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks. I couldn't help gawking, the old guy had class. But I had to go in -- I was freezing my ass. Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash, And out of the stove he came dragging his stash. With a smile and some glee he passed out the loot, A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot. He patted her fanny and shook my right hand, Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran. From up on the roof came a great deal of thunder, As that massive V-twin ripped the silence asunder. With beard in the wind, he roared off in the night, Shouting, "Have a cool Yule, and to all a good ride!"
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T'was the night before Christmas and all through the town,
no noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down,
no children in flannels were tucked into bed,
they all wore shorty pajamas instead.
To find wreaths of holly, t'was not very hard,
for holly trees grew in every back yard.
In front of the houses, Dads and Moms were
adorning the bushes and coconut palms.
The sleeping kiddies were dreaming in glee,
hoping to find water skis under the tree.
They all knew that Santa was well on his way,
in a Mercedes-Benz, instead of a sleigh.
And soon he arrived and started to work,
he hadn't a second to linger or shirk.
He whizzed up the highways and zoomed up the road,
in a S-L 300, delivering his loads.
The tropical moon gave the city a glow,
and lighted the way for old Santa below.
As he jumped from the auto he gave a wee chuckle,
he was dressed in Bermudas with an Ivy league buckle,
There weren't any chimneys, but that caused no gloom,
for Santa came in through the Florida room.
He stopped at each house....stayed only a minute,
emptying his sack of stuff that was in it.
Before he departed, he treated himself
to a glass of papaya juice upon the shelf.
He turned with a jerk and bounced to the car,
remembering he still had to go very far.
To get the right presents, if only they knew.
Twas the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed,
he cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks,
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works.
I've busted my ass for damn near a year,
instead of thank Santa, what do I hear?
The old lady bitches, cause I work late at night,
The elves want more money - the reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk, and goosed all the maids,
Donner is pregnant, and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better,
those assholes from IRS sent me a letter.
They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny,
who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money?
And the kids these days - they are all just the pits,
they want the impossible, those mean little shits..
I spent my whole year, making wagons and sleds,
Assembling dolls, their arms, legs, and heads..
I made a ton of yo-yo's, with no requests for them,
They want software and computers, they think I'm IBM!
If you think that's bad, just picture this,
try holding those brats, with their pants full of piss!
They pull on my nose, they grab at my beard,
And if I don't smile, the parents think I'm weird.
Flying through the air, dodging the trees,
Falling down chimneys, and skinning my knees.
I'm quitting this job, there is just no enjoyment,
I'll sit on my fat ass, and draw unemployment.
There's no Christmas this year, you now know the reason,
I've found me a blonde, I'm going SOUTH for the season!!
#crapusa
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