Hauls off and wallops!
It makes Santa surly, that spirit known as gin.
And now he's socking
Him and pushed his nose in; even Rudolph heard the pow!

Then he kneed the little Christmas
Sprite under the chin. It
Was quite a nasty blow--
Sent his head a-spinnin'.

When he kneed the little Christmas
Sprite under the chin. It
Wasn't fair—the man is so burly.
Santa drinks gin and he gets surly.

But the elf ain't wimpy—
Pulls out the brightest knife the elves have ever seen,
Slices Santa's face
And the surly old drunk looks like Jake in "Chinatown."

Then he grows a little meaner
Grows a little bolder
Grows a little madder
Then he starts to smolder.

And, feeling all his rage, pulls
Elf's arm from his shoulder.
It is dislocated now.

So the elf curls back his huge lips
The act's not for laughter
When he bites, it's stinging,
Just like a fish gaffer.

And now both are quite unhappy;
Both are in a lather.
Each Christmas they have this row.