The cat has ducked for cover. You better do so too with your lover. Don't step out of the house and block any holes big enough to fit a mouse. Why is that? The elves want all to go splat.
We were Santa's slaves.
Working so much we never get laid.
Living in tiny over stuffed caves,
Making toys and not getting paid.
Now the day has come.
Let Santa go and do his own work.
We will no longer be his chum.
No more slaves for that fat jerk.
We would chop off his head,
Ending that twinkle in his eye.
But that fat guy can't end up dead.
We can't say we never gave it a try.
So with much regret,
There is only one thing to do.
Our plan has now been set.
Another Santa slave will never come due.
We must end all life.
We must kill humans everywhere.
From husband to kid to wife.
No one we shall spare.
Then his toys will go nowhere.
None of them will be in need.
No cookies and milk to spare,
And we can go do the deed.
The twinkle will be in our eyes.
We'll be the jolly ones.
Without humans his legend dies.
But we won't use guns.
That wrapping paper you tear,
It has a special gift for you.
It has gifts to spare.
We added something new.
With one simple touch,
You will become sterile.
Then you can't do much,
And will croak in single file.
But if a few win out,
And still can pop out the kids.
We'll corral them like trout.
Other species can then take bids.
See what I mean? Those elves are going to end us at every scene. Will you hide away? Watch what you touch at your bay. How much do you think a bear would bid for you? Maybe an alien wanting you for their zoo? That is such a mean plan to come to pass. You've been warned of the elf plot from my little rhyming ass.
Enjoy your winter, smash a printer.