- Joined
- Feb 7, 2005
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The Evil Santa Poem
My hands were all shaky
My hands are all pale.
A letter from Santa
Had just arrived in the mail. It was hand written,
In old fashioned ink pen
It was handsomely written
And dated Twelve-Ten. "Dear Calvin," it said
"I'm writing because
This year I've repealed
My naughty/nice laws. So now I urge you:
Be vulgar and crude!
I like it when children
Are boorish and rude. Burp at the table!
Gargle your peas!
Never say 'Thank you,'
'Your Welcome,' Or
'Please.' Talk back to your mother!
Don't do what you're told!
Stick your tongue out
At your Dad if he scolds. Drive everyone crazy!
I really don't care.
Act like a jerk
Anytime, Anywhere! I'm changing the rules!
The Bad girls and boys
Will be, from now on,
The ones who get the toys! Good little kids make
Me sick, its no joke
Sincerely, signed Santa ...And Then I awoke. I hate being good
(Or trying to fake it).
Six days until Christmas
I don't think I'll make it.
My hands were all shaky
My hands are all pale.
A letter from Santa
Had just arrived in the mail. It was hand written,
In old fashioned ink pen
It was handsomely written
And dated Twelve-Ten. "Dear Calvin," it said
"I'm writing because
This year I've repealed
My naughty/nice laws. So now I urge you:
Be vulgar and crude!
I like it when children
Are boorish and rude. Burp at the table!
Gargle your peas!
Never say 'Thank you,'
'Your Welcome,' Or
'Please.' Talk back to your mother!
Don't do what you're told!
Stick your tongue out
At your Dad if he scolds. Drive everyone crazy!
I really don't care.
Act like a jerk
Anytime, Anywhere! I'm changing the rules!
The Bad girls and boys
Will be, from now on,
The ones who get the toys! Good little kids make
Me sick, its no joke
Sincerely, signed Santa ...And Then I awoke. I hate being good
(Or trying to fake it).
Six days until Christmas
I don't think I'll make it.
)