‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all thru the house,
Everyone was hung over, including the mouse;
The smell of stale booze hung in the air,
And some fat guy named Nick was passed out in a chair;
Nick lay there snoring wearing only a cap,
I was on the throne taking a crap;
Ma was in the kitchen having a smoke,
Pouring Hair of the Dog into her Diet Coke,
When out in the yard there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed up my shotgun to see what was the matter;
It was Robert and Betty, the folks from next door,
They were spittin’ and cussin’ and covered in gore.
When these two get goin’, it ain’t a pretty sight,
It usually takes the sheriff to put an end to the fight.
I could tell from the gleam in Ol’ Betty’s eye,
That if she caught up with him, Robert would die.
Bob was a runnin’ towards the tall grass,
For a guy on disability, he could really haul ass.
Betty’s daughter, the one named Two Ton,
Was headed their way, flanked by the boy called Son.
“Momma don’t do it,” she yelled at her mother,
“Run Daddy, run,” shouted her brother.
With the grace of a dancer, Robert was blitzin’,
Dashin’ and prancin’ towards our house he was fixin’.
“Sweetie,” he cried, “Don’t be so stupid,
You’re my sweet little vixen, and I’m your own little cupid.”
Away to the window Ma tore like a flash,
(Nick sneaked to the kitchen to look for her stash.)
Ma threw open the window still holding a beer,
She screamed like a banshee, “Y’ALL GIT OUT AH HERE!”
Betty stopped short and bent over to vomit,
Robert tore down the road like a runaway comet.
I heard him exclaim as he moved out of sight,
“Happy Christmas, y’all….have a good night!”