Oh, in no case, fly home for the holiday,
‘Cause the chatter's now, "Car's the way to roam."
'Less you've spine for the grunt line of the TSA,
For the holidays, your pants seat's safe at home.

I let a man who gives grin menace me;
He says, "Spread all fours,"
Sends dull pain via hands that roam staid junk in fly.
From tense still cranium, strokes are travelin’
Down betwixt knees, buns and drawers.
From his antics too specific,
Flee; the aftermath's horrific!

I, at slow pace, hike home where I fall and stay,
‘Cause I'm shattered, now far too dazed to roam.
If you want to feel sappy in a chilling way,
For the holidays, take chances, fly from home.

Take a bus, take a train.
No, can't hop an aeroplane.
Put the wife and kiddies in the family car.
To avoid the pat-down sting
When you fear that sure bell's ring, [1]
No trip could be too far.

I met a man who lives with ostomy;
He is headin’ for
Vent spill draining; then comes home aide, pumps bin dry.
From pent-up mania, folks bar travelin’
'Round to mix with fam'ly more.
From Pacific to Atlantic,
See, the traffic isn't frantic.

Oh, there's no grace in Homeland Security.
‘Cause close pat-downs now jar, we'll stay at home.
If you want to recapture many million strays,
For the holidays, you can’t treat folks like gnomes.
End this folly, hazing, scanning; comb zee dome! [2]