‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house there were empties and butts, left around by some louse.
And the best quart I’d hid by the chimney with care had been swiped by some bum, who’d discovered it there.
My guests all had long since been poured into their beds To wake in the morning with God-awful heads.
My mouth, full of cotton, hung down to my lap,
Because I was dying for one more nightcap.
When through the north window there came such a smell, I sprung to my feet to see what the hell.
And what to my wandering eyes should show up,
but eight bloated reindeer, hitched to a beer truck.
With a little old driver who looked like a hick,
but I saw it was Santa, as tight as a tick.
Staggering onward, those eight reindeer came,
While he hiccuped and belched and called them by name.
“On Schenley! On Seagram! We ain’t got all night!
You too, Haig and Haig, let’s go, Black and White!
Scram up on the roof, get the hell off of that wall,
Get going, you dummies, we’ve got a long haul!”
So up on the roof went the reindeer and truck,
But a tree branch hit Santa before he could duck.
And then, in a twinkling I heard from above,
A hell of a noise that was no cooing of a dove.
So I pulled in my head and I cocked a sharp ear,
Down the chimney he plunged, landing smack on his rear.
He was dressed up in furs, no cuffs on his pants,
And the way the guy squirmed, well I guess he had ants.
He had pints and quarts in the sack on his back,
And breath that could blow a freight train off of its track.
He was chubby and plump and he tried to stand right,
But he didn’t fool me, he was high as a kite.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And missed half of the stockings, the plastered old jerk.
Then putting five fingers to the side of his nose,
He gave me the bird and up the chimney he rose.
But I heard him belch as he passed out of sight,
“Merry Christmas, you rum-bums, now REALLY get tight!”