Santa’s Onto You

This Christmas, as always, Santa’s miffed
By your tiresome antics on his list.

You kicked three dogs, then chewed their toys
And switched from liking girls to boys.
Eleven times–you don’t know why–
You farted on a key lime pie.
You gave morphine to six orphan kids
And bailed on all your eBay bids.

You can cry, cry, cry like a little bitch,
(Yeah, let’s see you cry, you pussy)
But Santa’s onto you, you hear,
You can try, try, try like a little bitch,
(Yeah, go ahead and try, you pussy)
You’re getting nothing this year.

You took bong-hits with preemie babies
And infected skunks and bats with rabies.
You strained relations with North Korea,
You gave Bill Shatner diarrhea.
Last week you drew crude dicks and balls
On all your niece’s Barbie dolls.

You can cry, cry, cry like a little bitch,
(Yeah, let’s see you cry, you pussy)
But Santa’s onto you, you hear,
You can try, try, try like a little bitch,
(Yeah, go ahead and try, you pussy)
You’re getting nothing this year.

At three Hannafords and two Walmarts
You licked all of the shopping carts.
You peed on a paraplegic man
And became a Justin Bieber fan.
You defiled a pinecone that you found
In front of children on the playground.

You can cry, cry, cry like a little bitch,
(Yeah, let’s see you cry, you pussy)
But Santa’s onto you, you hear,
You can try, try, try like a little bitch,
(Yeah, go ahead and try, you pussy)
You’re getting nothing this year.

You edited “Aliens” so the xenomorphs win,
Twice you transitioned, then back again.
You roofied all of Bill Cosby’s cokes
And told the Dalai Lama racist jokes.
You let all your grandma’s house plants die
And twice you beat off a homeless guy.

He’s reasonable, the system’s fair
Is it too much to ask that you care?
Don’t be angry with old Saint Nick
It’s all your fault you were a dick.

Dick.