'Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru the shack
Not a creature was stirrin', 'cept the lice on mah back.
The Skoal cans was nailed to the screen door with care,
'Cuz we hoped that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were sleepin', all snug in their beds,
With visions of monster trucks dancin' in their heads.
And Ma in her housecoat had unfroze a pound cake,
And had just settled down to watch Ricki Lake.
When out in the driveway a loud noise I heard,
I opened the winder to check mah T-bird.
I ran to the door, like I wus on a mission,
And I tripped on some parts from mah Granny's transmission.
The moon wus a-shinin', the hound dogs wus barkin',
Mah daughter weren't home yet, she wus still out parkin'.
Then what to mah whiskey-blind eyes did I see
But a Chevy S-10, pulled by eight flyin' sheep.
With a fat nasty driver, so disgustin' and sick
I said "Shoot Fire! That there must be St. Nick!"
More rapid than Ex-lax them woolly sheep came
And he belched and he hollered, and he called 'em by name:
"Now Clifford! Now Vernon! Now Lester And Enos!
On Festus! On Elmer! On Roscoe and Cletus!
From the top of the shack to them there garbage bins,
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, you'ins!"
I heard this loud sound on the roof of mah shack,
Dropped mah beer quick and went fer the gun rack.
He fell through the tin roof, plumb near killed my dog,
I swear that ol' Santa looked just like Boss Hawg.
He wore a red T-shirt, rebel flag on the front,
And his jeans was all bloody from that mornin's hunt.
A big nekkid lady wus tattooed on his arm,
And his old jungle boots that he'd picked up in 'Nam.
His eyes, how they glazed, like from too much Wild Turkey,
From the side of his mouth hung a stick of beef jerky.
A scar on his cheek from a fight with the cops,
And the veins on his face looked jes' ready to pop.
The butt of a Marlboro clung to his lip
And he wore a big hip pack full of BBQ chips.
His face was unshaven, and his hairy beer belly -
I ain't seen one that big since mah ex-wife Shelly.
He was gap-toothed and looked like his I.Q. was three,
But I laughed cause that redneck was smarter than me.
With a twitch of his eye, and a shake of his head,
From his hair came a rat that ran under the bed.
He reached in his sack, downed a canned gin and tonic,
Then filled the kids' stockings with Hooked on Phonics.
His toys came from Big Lots and they wasn't too nice,
But he had plenty of them and ya can't beat the price.
Left a tape of them hound dogs that sing Jingle Bells,
A box of them steak knives that TV ad sells,
Some Crisco, some Spam, some chocolate Moon Pies,
And a black Nascar T-shirt in Double X size.
When the presents was gone and he hadn't no more,
He belched an' he stumbled right through mah screen door. He hopped in his truck, and to his sheep gave an order,"Hurry up you'ins! To the Tennessee border!"
And I heard him cry out in his loud drunken drawl,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS, YOU REDNECKS! MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL!"
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