• I sat with a smile waitng under the tree
    Grinning and hoping it'd be Santa I see
    Climbing out of the chimney and onto the rug
    I saw man in soot, as black as a bug
    Clothes with tints of red and a shiny belt too
    At the sight of his white beard I knew exactly who
    Stood before my fireplace holding his bag
    Filled with either gifts or coal he began to drag
    It out of the chimney and onto the floor
    As he began to turn I made for the door
    He saw me with a small gleam in his eye
    Pulled out a rifle and told me, "Merry Christmas, son, now you must die!"