Dear Husband, It is time that I must have my say,
I've taken your s**t day after day.
I've kept the home peaceful year after year
Now there is going to be changes, so listen my dear.
So you're famous, everyone knows your name,
And you're a specialist by gum, in the transport game,
You think you're so grand with your important job.
But I'm telling you my dear you're a worn out old yob
363 days a year,
You sit on your arse drinking scotch, rum and beer,
You claim it is to keep up the shine on your nose
So Santa can see where he bloodywell goes.
One night a year is all that you work,
You and your eight reisty mates - they're all jerks.
Dasher and Dancer - Speed freaks I say,
The sleigh wouldn't go that quick any other way.
Prancer and Vixen - Just cheap little tarts,
But they look like angels once Comet starts.
Cupids on some freaked out damned power trip,
And Donner...well, she should just get a damned grip
And Blitzen, I almost don't need to say,
Is here getting blitzed with you every day.
All of these years at the front of the sled,
Has gone, I'm afraid, to your crusty old head.
You're a layabout and a drunkard, with a big shiny nose,
And a weakness for elves in black pantyhose.
I'm telling you husband that one Christmas song,
Has made you think that you can do no wrong.
So this year while your out with old Santa's sled,
I am eloping, my dear, with your friend - Mr. Ed