The sun is shining, the day is bright.
Well your dining at the table tonight.
Thoughts of reindeer go through your head.
Christmas will soon be here, that's what I said.
Those toes in the sand all nice and tanned.
Will soon need a helping hand and be canned.
Wrapped up in boots and all kinds of socks.
While Deck the Halls kids play on flutes to no shocks.
You'll still be all nice and warm at your place,
As around you a snowstorm begins to race.
But instead of sweating from the heat each day.
You will be wrapped from head to feet at your bay.
Unless of course you shove the heat up so very high.
Then you can sit and love as the sweat continues to fly.
Oh me oh me oh me oh my,
It is the guttter I see under my sky.
But I never intended to go there at all,
Warming up in the cold at your lair is better to have ball.
But at least you won't have to mow the grass or tend to the weeds.
Instead of grab a shovel to get rid of that white mass because of your needs.
Boy, doesn't that make you want to grab a gift and wrap it up.
But hey, you make the spirits lift of your favorite butt sniffing pup.
As he tears it open early and puts all that work down the drain.
You will threaten to give him a swirly and send him down the lane.
Already are you ready to pop a vein in your pretty little head.
Don't get a kink as your neck begins to strain in bed.
I do not think you will see Santa this year, oh the dread.
For I hear his jolly old fat rear, is going to be held up in Club Med.
At least mommy won't do any extracurricular kissing on that night.
But you may find her missing as to Club Med she takes flight.
Then you track her down with your trusty gun.
You swear to make Santa frown and end his Club Med fun.
You go to jail and become known as the santa slayer.
Christmas is now a fail thanks to your added extra layer.
The kiddies cry at every corner of the street.
Even little Jack Horner and his Christmas pie will be beat.
All of that from thinking of Christmas instead of the sun and beach.
Going for something that will have its run but is still out of reach.
Or maybe it's just my crazy mind and some of the stuff that I find.
When I go for a stroll of some kind and turn into crazy rhyming behind.
And an early present for you,
Thanks to Betsy's to fetish at her zoo.
I may not have a green thumb,
But at least I have a green toe and then some.
Now aren't I not better than some Christmas sale that in August begins to set sail? Of course if you're the Santa slayer it may not matter. But at least you can gloat that you saved Santa from getting fatter. He may not get down the chimney if he has to much more mass. So now go to the giant litter box and thank my little rhyming ass.
Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.