Cover

Hey Santa Claus

Live
Preview: 0:00 / 0:00 | Original: 3:04
We have synchronized lyrics for this track, karaoke play is available. Let's party!
Lyrics
Hey Santa Claus
Quite often I get to thinking how as kids we got by,
At Christmas time at our house we couldn't even afford a fire.
So we made do with what we had, back then when I was young,
old Dad would suck a peppermint - and we'd sit around his tongue.

We couldn't afford no sparkly tinsel for our Christmas tree
So we just wheeled Grandad in and made the old fart sneeze.
But things change pretty quick, I've got kids now of my own
And I watched them open their prezzies late last night when I came home.

Here's what the little buggers were saying:

Hey Santa (Hey Santa) where's my fucking bike?
I've unwrapped all this other junk and there's nothing that I like
I wrote you a fucking letter, I came to see you twice,
You worn out geriatric fart, you forgot me fucking bike!

If I wanted a pair of bloody thongs I would have bloody asked
And this cowboy suit and Ping-Pong set you can shove right up your arse
You've stuffed me bloody order up, it's enough to make you spew
But it's not just me that's snaky - my sister's pissed off too.

Hey Santa (Hey, Santa) where's my fucking pram?
You promised me you'd send me one, don't you remember who I am?
I'm the little girl what you made sit down on your hand
Never mind your fucking "Ho Ho Ho" - where's my fucking pram?

Next time I come to see you I'm gonna punch you in the guts,
I'm gonna turn your fucking reindeer loose and kick Rudolph in the nuts
You just wait till next year when you come back to that store
And me and my kids sister come marching through the door
we'll tell them, eh ...

Hey mums and dads - smell his breath and check his bloodshot eyes
And don't listen to him, boys and girls, cause he tells fucking lies
He's a piss tank and a pervert, he's not even very bright
Cause the old fucking wanker, he forgot my fucking bike

Hey Santa (Hey Santa) where's my fucking bike?
I've unwrapped all this other junk and there's nothing that I like
I wrote you a fucking letter, shit - I came to see you twice
You worn out, geriatric fart, you forgot me fucking bike!

Words and Music by Kevin 'Bloody' Wilson
Your Cart