Down through the snickets and moss covered walls,

bad Santa hungover stubs his toe and he falls,

He curses and damns the terraced old gate,

Though he gives not a fig if his presents are late,

For you see this old codger woke up in a mood

No cookies were left with his milk or some food

He does splits over ice and asks what’s the crack

Why should he risk all the nuts in his sack

For some snot covered yout passed out his bed

With dreams of game stations a whirl in his head

Not a thought for bad Santa all cold in the snow

Not a thought for those bed less the less that they know

The more that they want, the more that they need

To fill their daft heads with baubles and greed

Bad Santa resents rewarding the mindless

For is this not the time to show others some kindness

He sighs as he wades through the ginnels and walls

Merry Christmas be damned and humbug to you all