The spirit of Christmas is hard to contain
In tip-tapping language and flowery refrain
‘Cause sometimes that spirit is dark and deranged
On an old, bony tree that’s striking but strange,
Where hung from its hungriest skeletal boughs
Awaiting the gasps and horrified wows
Are terrible trinkets, stinking and glaring,
Joining the dreadful tradition of sharing.

A tinsel of terrible web to start,
A graveyard of flies strung up by their hearts,
But look! Some yet live!
Lunging and biting and ready to give
Some awful disease that so sweetly hangs
On the tip of their lovely, little fly fangs.
There’s bat wings and lizards
And red and green gizards!
Eggs left from Easter gone spotty and rotten!
Shriveled fish and feet long forgotten!
A glowering eye passes judgments,
Looking on all with disgusted repugnance.
Hark! Every Christmas tree needs a star!
And stuck to the top of this one with tar –
Wearing Santa’s hat, a shrunken head,
Topping the tree with holiday dread.

Christmas is Christmas!
Let none of us miss this.
So Merry to you!
Or whatever rings true.