Santa Claus sits in his grotto Been to the pub – totally blotto Hood crooked, beard slipping Too much mulled wine he’s been sipping
The door to the grotto, flung open wide Revealing Santa snoozing inside The kiddies waiting outside for a word Only Santa’s snoring heard.
Through bleary eyes he gets a view Of children waiting in a queue He manages a smile and a ho-ho-ho As he welcomes them to the fairy grotto.
A line of little girls and boys All demanding expensive toys He promises he will do his best And none of them realise he speaks in jest.
He thinks “What a job, but I suppose on the whole Its slightly better than being on the dole.