A few different versions…
HO HO HO!
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 a 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 tons 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…their moms 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!!
A Different Santa Clause Story
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and poor momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I’m speaking, he was as high as a kite.
And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, ’cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He lookd like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
“That was some brothel,” he said with a smile,
“The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay here awhile.
He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find,
And a six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several other things that I shouldn’t even mention.
A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.
“This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I’ll leave ’em here, and then I’ll just split.”
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug tucked under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took the reins of his hitch,
Saying, “Take me home Rudolph, this night’s been a bitch!”
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
“The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!”
Twas the Night Before Christmas in Yonkers
‘Twas 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 up 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,
Away dey all flew,
Before he troo dem a beatin’.
Den I heard him yell out,
Two, tree times, I expect
“Merry Friggin’ Christmas to all,
And you’s better show some respect!
I was told this one was written by some language students at Howard University back in the late 90s…
DE EBONICS CRIMMUS POEM
Wuz de nite befo Crimmus;
And all ower da hood;
ereybody wuz’ sleepin’;
Dey wuz sleepin’ good.
We hunged up our stockings;
An hoped like de’ heck;
That old Santa Clause;
Be bringin’ our check.
All o’de fambily;
Wuz layin in de beds;
While Ripple and Thunderbird;
Danced through dey heads.
I passed out inna’ flo;
Right nex to my Maw;
When I heard sech a fuss;
I thunk: “It mus be de law!!!”
I looked out thru de bars;
What covered my doe;
‘spectin’ de sheriff;
Wif a warrent fo sho.
And what did I see;
I said, “Lawd look at dat!!”
Ther’ wuz a huge watermellon;
Pulled by giant warf rats!!
Now ober all de years;
Santa Clause, he be white;
But looks liken us bros;
Gets a black Sanna dis nite.
Faster dan a Po’lees car;
My home boy he came;
He whupped on dem warf rats;
An’ called dem by name!
On Leroy, on ‘Lonzo ;
And on Willie Lee;
On Saphire, on Chenequa;
Dey wuz a site to see!!
As he landed dat watta’ mellon;
Out der in da skreet;
I knowed it was fo’ sho’;
Da damndest site I ebber did see.
He didn’t go down no chimbley;
He picked da’ lock on my doe;
An’ I sez to myself;
“S**t!! He done dis befoe!!!”
He had dis big bag;
Full of prezents I ‘xpect;
Wid Air Jordans and fake gold;
To wear roun’ my neck.
But he left no good prezents;
Jus started stealing my shit;
Got my drugs, got my guns,
Even got my burglar’s kit!!
Wit my stuff in de bag;
Out da window he flewed;
I woudda’ tried to catched him;
But he stoled my ‘nife too!!
He jumped on dat wadda’ mellon;
An’ whipped out a switch;
He wuz gone in a seccon’;
Dat son of a bitch!!
Next year I be hopin’:
Anutha Sanna we git;
Cuz’ diz here Sanna Clause;
Jus’ ain’t werf a s**t
And this one is for the troops…
Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see just who in this home did live
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds
A sober thought did come through my mind
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly
The soldier lay sleeping, silent and alone
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder
Not how I pictured a United States soldier
Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight
Soon round the world, the children would play
And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home
The very thought brought a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees and started to cry
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice
Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
And we both shivered from the cold nights chill
I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark, night
This guardian of honor so willing to fight
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure
Whispered Carry on Santa, all is secure
One look at my watch and I knew he was right
Merry Christmas, my friend, and to all a good night
By: Major Bruce Lovely, adopted from a similar poem