You Ain't Gettin' Shit For Christmas

You know, they say Christmas is a time for giving
At least that's what the good book says
And at our house, every Christmas Eve
My son and daughter and their families drive down from the big city
For an old-fashioned family holiday

Ma dresses the house up like a Christmas card
You can hear her in the kitchen singing while she's baking cookies for the children
And she spends hours wrapping the presents she's been buying since last August
She hangs all the stockings all over the fireplace

In the morning of, I cut me down the prettiest darn Christmas tree ever saw in your life
This year we really outdid ourselves, you know
Ma and I are getting on in our years
So, we decided to give the kids tax-free cash gifts of ten thousand dollars apiece

Well, I reckon it was around noon when I heard the dogs barking ("Come Rags!, Come Guzzler!")
And there was Jim, the mailman in his old Santa cap, coming up the walk
Teasing the dogs, holding a package
Well, he handed it over to me and says
"Pappy, looks like you got an overnight package from your daughter"
Well, Ma tore it open
To our horror we unwrapped a fruitcake with a note that read

"Hello Ma and Dad
At the last minute we got a cheap fare on the internet and went to Hawaii
Hold onto our gifts until after the first of the year
Love, Princess"

Well, Ma's heart was broken and I felt a lump in my throat as I thought to myself

You ain't getting shit for Christmas (hey princess, you ain't getting shit for Christmas)
You can shove that fruitcake up your ass (fact you can stick up that fruitcake up your ass)
You ain't getting shit (you drinking shit)
No, you ain't getting dick (you drinking dick for me and ma)
You ain't getting shit for Christmas (and hanging it like that)

You know, Ma hasn't had a drink in 20 years
And I've been off the sauce myself for a while now
And heck, if there was ever an excuse to start drinking again
Who in the entire nation could that be, Junior and his family?
It was some delivery fella standing there holding what looked like a fruitcake tin with a card attached

"Pop, the company's condo is free this week
You know how much Pumpkin and I love Hilton Head
Please forward our gifts to this address"

Hey Ma, save some of that for me
Well, Ma took a conniption and things turned ugly
She started breaking things and hurled the turkey and those two fruitcakes right through the front window
The whole time she was yelling

You ain't getting shit for Christmas (I tell you, you ain't getting shit for Christmas)
You can shove that fruitcake up your ass (you can shove that fruitcake up your ass)
You ain't getting shit
No, you ain't getting dick
You ain't getting shit for Christmas

You ain't getting shit for Christmas
You can shove that fruitcake up your ass
You ain't getting shit
No, you ain't getting dick
You ain't getting shit for Christmas



Credits
Writer(s): Arthur Johnson, Edward Paul Grenga, Douglas David Stevens
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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