On Christmas Eve, a young boy with light in his eyes
Looked deep into Santa's, to Santa's surprise,
And said as he nestled on Santa's broad knee,
"I want your secret. Tell it to me."
He leaned up and whispered in Santa's good ear,
"How do you do it, year after year?"
"I want to know how as you travel about,
Giving gifts here and there, you never run out.
How is it, dear Santa, that in your pack of toys
You have plenty for all the world's girls and boys?
Stays so full, never empties. To homes large and small
From nation to nation, reaching them all"
And Santa smiled kindly and said to the boy,
"Don't ask me hard questions. Don't you want a toy?"
But the child shook his head, and Santa could see
That he needed the answer. "Now listen to me,"
He told the small boy with light in his eyes,
"My secret will make you sadder, and wise"
"The truth is that my sack is magic Inside.
It holds millions of toys for my Christmas Eve ride.
But although I do visit each girl and each boy
I don't always leave them a gaily wrapped toy.
Some homes are hungry, some homes are sad,
Some homes are desperate, some homes are bad.
Some homes are broken, and children there grieve.
Those homes I visit, but what should I leave?"
"My sleigh is filled with the happiest stuff,
But for homes where despair lives, toys aren't enough.
So I tiptoe in, kiss each girl and boy,
And pray with them that they'll be given the joy
Of the spirit of Christmas, the spirit that lives
In the heart of the dear child who gets not, but gives."
"If only God hears me and answers my prayer,
When I visit next year, what I will find there
Are homes filled with peace, and with giving, and love
And boys and girls gifted from light up above.
It's a very hard task, my smart little brother,
To give toys to some, and give prayers to another.
But the prayers are the best gifts, the best gifts indeed,
For God has a way of meeting each need."
"That's part of the answer. The rest, my dear youth,
Is that my sack is magic. And that is the truth.
In my sack I carry on Christmas Eve day
More love than a Santa could ever give away.
The sack never empties of love, or of joys
'Cause inside it are prayers, and hopes. Not just toys.
The more that I give, the fuller it seems,
Because giving is my way of fulfilling dreams."
"And do you know something? You've got a sack, too.
It's as magic as mine, and it's inside of you.
It never gets empty, it's full from the start.
It's the center of lights, and of love. It's your heart.
And if on this Christmas you want to help me,
Don't be so concerned with the gifts 'neath your tree.
Open that sack called your heart, and share
Your joy, your friendship, your wealth, your care."
The light in the small boy's eyes was glowing.
"Thanks for the secret. I've got to be going."
"Wait, little boy," said Santa, "don't go.
Will you share? Will you help? Will you use what you know?"
And for a moment the small boy stood still,
Touched his heart with his hand and whispered,
A Visit from Racer Nicholas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the valley,
Not a sports car was stirring, not even Ferrari.
The stockings were hung on the garage door with care,
In hopes that Hot Nick soon would be there.
The kiddies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While ALFAs and Jaguars raced in their heads;
Mom in her goggles and I in beret,
Had tucked in the Allard, and then hit the hay.
When out on the road there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter:
Expecting to see a Mercedes roar by,
We raced to the window, my dear wife and I.
The moon on the chrome of her baby Lago,
Gave the brightness of noonday to objects below..
When what should my wondering eyes betray,
But eight tiny MGs, pulling a sleigh.
With a small hero driver so steady and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Hot Nick!
More rapid than Grand Prix his little fleet came,
And he poured on the coal as he called them by name.
"Now KA, now PB, now KN and TD,
On VA, on TF, on NA and TC;
To the top of the turn, keep away from the wall,
Now dash away, dig out, and change cogs all!"
Like Ascari and Fangio fighting a duel,
They broadslid the driveway and turned on the fuel;
Up to the garage where they braked to a stop,
The sleigh full of goodies with Santa on top.
The sleigh was aluminum - Ghia design;
In British Racing Green, it really looked fine.
The badge bar up front stood out clear and bold,
The collection of badges a sight to behold.
He was dressed up all in Italian Race Red,
>From the tip of his toes to top of his head;
A bundle of speed parts he had on his back,
And he chuckled with glee as he opened his pack.
His eyes, how they sparkled, like a spinning Rudge wheel,
His beard was the silver of machine-tooled steel;
With a little round face and a chubby waist line
That shook when he laughed like that Bugatti of mine.
He started his task without saying a word,
The idling exhausts were all that was heard.
Wire wheels for Junior, to fit his TD,
Hood strap and windscreens for Allard and me.
Some paint for the Bug, marked "French Racing Bleu",
Castrol, a blower, and dual carbies, too;
The last thing he left was the best that could be,
A year's "Road and Track" for the family and me.
He jumped to the sleigh and gave his commands,
Then away they all flew like the start at Le Mans,
And I heard him exclaim as he quickened the pace,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good race!
Is Santa so jolly because he knows where all the bad girls live?
Tas the night before Christmas, da whole house was mella
Not a creature was stirrin' cuz I had a gun unda da pilla.
When up on da roof I heard somethin' pound,
I sprung to da window,To scream, "YO! Keep it down! "
When what to my Wanderin' eyes should appear,
But da Don of all elfs, and eight friggin' reindeer!
Wit' slicked back black hair, and a silk red suit,
Don Christopher wuz here, and he brought da loot!
Wit' a slap to dare snouts, and a yank on dare manes,
He cursed and he shouted, and he called dem by name.
"Yo Tony, Yo Frankie, Yo Vinny, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie, Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!"
As I drew out my gun and hid by da bed,
He flew troo da winda and slapped me 'side da head.
"What da hell you doin' Pullin' a gun on da Don?
Now all you're gettin' is coal,you friggin' moron! "
Den pointin' a fat finga right unda my nose,
He twisted his pinky ring, and up da chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, obscenities a screamin',
Away dey all flew, before he troo dem a beatin'.
Den I heard him yell out, What I did least expect,
"Merry Friggin' Christmas to all, and yous better show some respect!"
Walkin' Round in Women's Underwear
(sung to the tune "Walking In a Winter Wonderland")
Lacy things - the wife is missin',
Didn't ask - her permission,
I'm wearin' her clothes ,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' round in women's underwear.
In the store - there's a teddy,
Little straps - like spaghetti,
It holds me so tight,
Like handcuffs at night,
Walkin' round in women's underwear.
In the office there's a guy named Melvin,
He pretends that I am Murphy Brown.
He'll say, "Are you ready?" We'll say,"Whoa, Man!
Let's wait until our wives are out of town!"
Later on, if you wanna,
We can dress - like Madonna,
Put on some eyeshade,
And join the parade,
Walkin' round in women's underwear!
"What I don't like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day."
One particular Christmas season a long time ago, Santa was getting ready for his annual trip ... but there were problems everywhere.
Four of his elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.
Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more.
When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More stress.
Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hit the liquor and there was nothing to drink.
In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from.
Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas Santa. Isn't it just a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Isn't it just a lovely tree? Where would you like me to stick it?"
Thus began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.
T'was 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 good mind to scrap the whole works
I've busted my ass for damn near a year
Instead of "Thanks 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 all are the pits
They want the impossible ...Those mean little shits
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's - No request for them
They want computers and robots...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's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment
There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason
I found me a blonde.. I'm going SOUTH for the season!!
The Best Fruitcake Ever
1 cup butter
1 cup sugar
4 large eggs
1 cup dried fruit
1 t. baking powder
1 T. lemon juice
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup nuts
1 or 2 quarts of aged whiskey
Before you start, sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Good, ain't it? Now go ahead.
Select a large mixing bowl, measuring cup, etc.
Check the whiskey again as it must be just right. To be sure the
whiskey is of the highest quality, pour 1 level cup into a glass and
drink it as fast as you can.
With an eclectic mixer, beat 1 cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add 1 teaspoon of sugar and beat the heck out of it again.
Meanwhile, at this parsnicular point in time, wake sure that the whixsey
hasn't gone bad while you weren't lookin'. Open second quart if
Add 2 large leggs, 2 cups fried druit an beat til high. If druit gets
schtuck in peaters, just pry the monsters loosh with a drewscriver.
Example the whixstey again, schecking confistancy, then shitf 2 cups of
salt or destergent or whatever, like anyone gives a @%#* !
Chample the whitchey shum more.
Shift in sum lemon zhoosh. Fold in chooped sputter and shrained nuts.
Add 100 bablespoons of brown booger or whutever's closhest and mix
Greash ubben and turn the cakey pan to 350 decrees.
Now pour the whole freakin' mesh into the washin' machine and set in
Check dat whixney wuns more and pash out.
TOP TEN SIGNS SANTA DOESN'T LIKE YOUR KID
10. Kid's letter to north pole comes back stamped, "Dream on, Chester!"
9. Kid asks for new bike, gets pack of smokes
8. Along with presents, Santa leaves hefty bill for shipping and handling
7. By the time he gets to your house, all he has left are styrofoam peanuts
6. Christmas day, your kid wakes up with a Reindeer head in his bed.
5. Instead of "Naughty" or "Nice", Santa has him on the dork list
4. Sends him off on one of them Carnival Cruises with Kathie Lee
3. First words when kid gets on his lap are, "Touch my beard and I'll put the hurt on you."
2. Labels on all your kid's toys read "Straight from Craptown."
1. Four words: "Off my lap, Tubby!"
The Month After Christmas
'Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt---
I said to myself, as I only can
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"
So-away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
Til all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie-not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore-
But isn't that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!
A Winter Wonderland
New Jersey Style
Driver's swear ..... are you listenin',
At the Mall .....folks are bitchin',
A miserable sight ..... they're sorry tonite,
Drivin' in New Jersey's TrafficLand!
Gone away ...... are your tires,
meter has ...... just expired,
They towed you away, while you shopped today,
Parkin' in New Jersey's TrafficLand!
On the Parkway we will have a breakdown,
We'll be stuck and threathened on the side,
If we're lucky, muggers might come mug us,
And if we plead they may give us a ride!
Santa's sleigh ..... was impounded,
All the Elves ...... were surrounded,
He's now in a cell .... for ringin' his bell,
Living in New Jersey's TrafficLand!