Stewed, dad is passed out
from way too much rye.
I’m hearing a shout,
so I go to spy.
Santa Claus from the roof’s come down.

He gives mom a kiss,
as in that song nice.*
But this is different: I am sensing vice.
Santa Claus then pulls down her gown.

I’m seeing, not believing,
Santa is on the make.
He’s told me that I should be good—
said words coming from a rake!

I watch and don’t shout
hard as I can try.
I see this fat lout
caressing her thigh…
Santa Claus is rubbing mom down.

He’s wheezing as he’s breathing;
similar sound mom makes..
She has been clamoring for wood,
’cause dad ain’t got what it takes.

“You stop that?” I shout
as I catch his eye.
I now have no doubt:
He’s not a good guy.
Santa Claus is humping mom’s down.


*I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus