Lyrics

You know, they say Christmas is a time for giving At least that's what the good book says And at our house, every Christmas Eve My son and daughter and their families drive down from the big city For an old-fashioned family holiday Ma dresses the house up like a Christmas card You can hear her in the kitchen singing while she's baking cookies for the children And she spends hours wrapping the presents she's been buying since last August She hangs all the stockings all over the fireplace In the morning of, I cut me down the prettiest darn Christmas tree ever saw in your life This year we really outdid ourselves, you know Ma and I are getting on in our years So, we decided to give the kids tax-free cash gifts of ten thousand dollars apiece Well, I reckon it was around noon when I heard the dogs barking ("Come Rags!, Come Guzzler!") And there was Jim, the mailman in his old Santa cap, coming up the walk Teasing the dogs, holding a package Well, he handed it over to me and says "Pappy, looks like you got an overnight package from your daughter" Well, Ma tore it open To our horror we unwrapped a fruitcake with a note that read "Hello Ma and Dad At the last minute we got a cheap fare on the internet and went to Hawaii Hold onto our gifts until after the first of the year Love, Princess" Well, Ma's heart was broken and I felt a lump in my throat as I thought to myself You ain't getting shit for Christmas (hey princess, you ain't getting shit for Christmas) You can shove that fruitcake up your ass (fact you can stick up that fruitcake up your ass) You ain't getting shit (you drinking shit) No, you ain't getting dick (you drinking dick for me and ma) You ain't getting shit for Christmas (and hanging it like that) You know, Ma hasn't had a drink in 20 years And I've been off the sauce myself for a while now And heck, if there was ever an excuse to start drinking again Who in the entire nation could that be, Junior and his family? It was some delivery fella standing there holding what looked like a fruitcake tin with a card attached "Pop, the company's condo is free this week You know how much Pumpkin and I love Hilton Head Please forward our gifts to this address" Hey Ma, save some of that for me Well, Ma took a conniption and things turned ugly She started breaking things and hurled the turkey and those two fruitcakes right through the front window The whole time she was yelling You ain't getting shit for Christmas (I tell you, you ain't getting shit for Christmas) You can shove that fruitcake up your ass (you can shove that fruitcake up your ass) You ain't getting shit No, you ain't getting dick You ain't getting shit for Christmas You ain't getting shit for Christmas You can shove that fruitcake up your ass You ain't getting shit No, you ain't getting dick You ain't getting shit for Christmas
Writer(s): Arthur Johnson, Douglas Stevens, Edward Paul Grenga Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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