A Slightly-More-Realistic Christmas Poem

For some reason I occasionally catch the parody bug, like a younger, better-looking Weird Al.

Today, I happened upon the classic “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” poem, and decided to give it the old Dad and Buried spin.

It’s a bit of a lark, but after a weekend of traveling, shopping, family and general holiday stress, I’m in the mood for a lark. I hope you are too. But I don’t blame you if you’re not.

Merry Christmas!

A Slightly More Realistic Take on “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas”

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our place
Not a toddler was stirring, not even whatshisface
Of course, I’m just joking, I know my kid’s name
And he’s wide awake, are you fucking insane?
He’s way too excited to have gone to sleep,
He’s three-fucking-years-old, he’s practicing leaps!
I’m serious, he’s jumping, right off of the couch,
While I sit here and brace for his impending “ouch!”

I thought this was when kids should be in bed,
With plums or some shit all up in their heads
Mama IS in her ‘kerchief, I can tell you that
But if you think we’re sleeping, you don’t have any brats
There will be a huge clatter, but not on the lawn
It’ll be in the attic, away from my spawn
I’ll be up there later, bringing everything down
All of the gifts making our bank account drown

I hope I don’t trip, I’m on a bit of a binge
Tomorrow I’ll prolly wake up with the spins
But right now I’m watching my kid act a fool
If he doesn’t sleep soon I may lose my cool
And the myth of old Santa will then be destroyed
By a dad who’s frustrated with his little boy
I’ll get out the presents, right in my son’s face

I’ll redeem myself once the kid passes out
And I use my man skills (despite my wife’s doubts)
I’ll assemble the bike and arrange all the boxes
I just hope before then I don’t run out of toxins
But what to my wondering eyes do appear?
My bro walking in with a new case of beer!

I’m glad he’s arrived, I’m at the end of my rope
With my brother here, it’s easier to cope
I crack a new beer cuz I get to sit back
Best part about uncles? They pick up the slack!
Soon my kid will sleep, down like a log
And I’ll move from beer to some creamy egg nog

If you think having children made me a teetotaler
Then you must not have kids, cuz you’d never be sober
So while some things have changed, many things haven’t
No, I never before had to sit through a pageant
But I still like to drink, it’s how I survive
Especially on Christmas, once the family arrives

Now Christmas has gone from getting to giving
It’s not for the dying, it’s for the new living
That includes our dear kids, who don’t always deserve it
But they get what they want and we get to get shitted
My hangover will suck but Christmas will delight, so
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

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4 thoughts on “A Slightly-More-Realistic Christmas Poem

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