We are all made up of blood and guts,
And things that make nasty puddles,
But, hair and skin,
No matter how thin,
Makes it OK when the nasty stuff cuddles.
Santa went out on the ice on the bay,
Chasing a reindeer that had just run away,
But, the ice wasn't good,
Where the heavy elf stood,
He said "Ho, Ho," as he went under that day.
By my house on a hill was a tree, I cut the tree down but, I should have left the tree be, For, the tree held up the hill, My house made a topple-down spill, And, I was buried beneath the hill, house and tree.
Bill had to see a tax-attorney, Or, to the federal prison journey, But, his taxes still were far out of sight, So, Bill left on the next international flight.
Sydney was such a pill,
He couldn't remember to pay his doctor's bill,
Through his mental disturbance,
He caused much perturbance,
Now, he has a room with no window or sill.