'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
AND ALL THROUGH THE SHACK,
NOT A DARN THING WAS A MOVIN'
FROM THE FRONT TO THE BACK.

THE KIDS WERE IN BED,
WE HAD NINE AT THE TIME,
THE WIFE IN HER CURLERS,
WAS LOOKIN' REAL FINE.

A COLD WIND WAS BLOWIN',
UP THE HOLLER IT MOANED,
TEN DOGS ON THE PORCH
ALL HOWLED AND GROANED.

THE BOYS WERE ALL DREAMIN'
OF WEAPONS AND GUNS,
FOR KILLIN' GOD'S CREATURES, ...
THERE'S NO BETTER FUN!

THE GIRLS IN THEIR FEMININE
DREAMS WERE ATTUNED,
TO GETTING THOSE GALLONS
OF WAL-MART PERFUME.

THE WIFE WANTED JEWELRY,
LIKE RINGS WITH BIG ROCKS.
I JUST WANTED MY CHEVY
DOWN OFF OF THEM BLOCKS.

THEN OUT IN YARD,
SUCH A NOISE DID COMMENCE,
LIKE SOMETHING WAS CAUGHT
IN OUR NEW BOB WIRED FENCE.

I RAN TO THE WINDOW,
AND SAW PRETTY QUICK,
THAT MAN MAKIN' RACKET,
WAS GOOD OL' ST. NICK.

YOU MAY THINK OF SANTA
IN YOUR OWN MIND'S EYE,
DRESSED IN A RED AND WHITE SUIT,
BUT I'VE GOT A SURPRISE.

THAT OLD BOY'S AN ARKIE,
FROM UP NEAR MT. GAYLOR,
HE MARRIED HIS COUSIN,
AND THEY LIVE IN A TRAILER.

ON CHRISTMAS, OF COURSE,
A SLEIGH FOR HIS RIG,
HE HOOKS THE THING UP
TO A RAZORBACK PIG!

HE CLIMBED ON THE ROOF,
WITH HIS BAG FULL OF GOODIES,
HE BACKED DOWN THE FIREPLACE,
ALL DIRTY AND SOOTY.

FAT LEGS IN HIS BRITCHES,
CHUBBY HANDS IN HIS MITTENS,
I MUST ADMIT FROM THE BACK,
HE LOOKED A LOT LIKE BILL CLINTON.

HE TURNED TOWARD THE TREE,
HIS EYES ALL AGLOW,
HE WAS AN ARKANSAS BOY
FROM HIS HEAD TO HIS TOE.

HIS NECK WAS A RED ONE,
HIS SHIRT SAID "LITE BEER",
HE HAD NO RED HAT ON,
BUT HIS CAP READ "JOHN DEERE".

HE LEFT ALL THE PRESENTS,
WITH AN AIR OF DELIGHT,
THEN IT WAS BACK TO THE CHIMNEY,
AND INTO THE NIGHT.

HE RAN INTO THE YARD,
THREW HIS BAG IN THE SLEIGH,
THEN HE YELLED AT THE DOGS,
"GET THE HELL OUT TH' WAY!"

I RAN OUT TO ASK HIM
WHY HE BROUGHT SUCH GOOD CHEER;
BUT INSTEAD HE JUST ASKED ME,
"YOU GET YOU A DEER?"

THEN I HEARD HIM EXCLAIM,
AS THAT PIG TOOK FLIGHT,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL ...
NOW I NEEDS A BUD LITE!"