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