Fabulous santa

Way up north Christmas magic is happening,
And the elves are preparing Santa for the night.
They trim his whiksers and powder his nose,
Prepping him for the long flight.
They cleanse his glasses and press his shirt,
They even tweeze his brow,
They're small as hell but that's alright,
Imperfections they shant allow.
When all is done and sweated out,
Santa arises and twirls,
They've done it again these fucking rad elves,
He's fabulous in his white curls.
Santa then mounts the sleigh and goes,
The elves remaining below,
They wave him off with a teary goodbye,
What a man, what a show.
Of course there's always that bittersweet taste,
When Santa storms out of the North Pole address,
For the elves are small and he always strays,
Crushing thousands in a bloody mess.
But part of Christmas is Christmass cheer,
So the elves accept their lot,
Only three hundred died under his foot this year,
Not as bad as what 2016 wrought.


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