EPTSqueeze through the smallest gap;
And what does he do with all that power?
Fill our homes with tons of crap.
It's the second verse, and what is worse,
He pretends its not from him;
Labels crystal cats as Auntie Pat's,
DVDs from Uncle Jim.
Then again, six hundred years, my friends,
He's been checking off that list;
Maybe all our silly fads and trends
Simply sent him round the twist.
So we'll let it pass, and just raise a glass,
To the supersonic loon,
And we'll dance and sing 'round the joys he brings,
'Till we all run out of room.
Merry Christmas!
