Christmas hell, Christmas hell,
every year the same.
It’s never as it ought to be
and you’re the one to blame.
Mum is in the kitchen,
she went completely nuts.
She’s sharpening her sharpest knife,
to take out daddys guts.
Daddy's in the garden,
messing with the tree
'twas ten feet when he bought it
and now it’s to his knee.
At home feels like Pearl Harbour,
the neighbours are at war.
Grandma wants to do the freak
like all the years before.
Old Santa is exhausted,
he’s feeling not too well.
Doc is sure he won’t live through
another Christmas hell.
I gave up on festivities
and went down to the Pub.
Now listen to me singing:
down Christmas, bottoms up.
Ich glaub's ja nicht, du alter Weihnachtsmuffel! Nächstes Jahr gibt es in der Vorweihnachtszeit (also praktisch ab August, wenn ich wieder da bin ;) wieder ordentlich Geträller vom zarten Stimmchen deiner Lieblingstochter.
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