Deck the malls with boughs of folly.
Fa la la la la at the red robot;
some crismas for me meddem?
hungry boy don’t do crime.
And you got some crismas for me?
pudding and pie.
I am the ghost of Christmas presents.
I am everywhere that will take your bonus
and your dis-charged obligations.
Will the jolly fatman
fit through the hole in
the zinc of plot 365
while the family sleeps to a gas-stove lullaby?
All little Johnny wants for crismas
is some change for bread meddem.
Please, you got some crismas for me?