Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer
by Elmo and Patsy Shropshire
Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there’s no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
She’d been drinkin’ too much egg nog,
And we’d begged her not to go.
But she’d left her medication,
So she stumbled out the door into the snow.
When they found her Christmas mornin’,
At the scene of the attack.
There were hoof prints on her forehead,
And incriminatin’ Claus marks on her back.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin’ home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there’s no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
Now were all so proud of Grandpa,
He’s been takin’ this so well.
See him in there watchin’ football,
Drinkin’ beer and playin’ cards with cousin Belle.
It’s not Christmas without Grandma.
All the family’s dressed in black.
And we just can’t help but wonder:
Should we open up her gifts or send them back?
Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin’ home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there’s no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
Now the goose is on the table
And the pudding made of fig.
And a blue and silver candle,
That would just have matched the hair in Grandma’s wig.
I’ve warned all my friends and neighbours.
” Better watch out for yourselves.”
They should never give a license,
To a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin’ home from our house, Christmas eve.
You can say there’s no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe
*
I’m almost determined to be cynical during Christmas. It’s a season of giving, goodwill, forgiveness, justified random smooching, mass sms-es, yadayadayada — but we fail to forget that because seasons come, they go as well.
yam.
P.S. Yesterday night, I attended a social gathering of rich pretentious businessmen, held at a newly done-up residence of another rich pretentious businessman with a famous artist for a father. His house is so incredibly long, the second floor corridor looks like it’ll never end in sight (twilight zone, maybe?). The poor wife, stuck in the role of gracious host, had to back-breakingly serve the men a constant flow of dishes throughout dinner.
