‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all I could hear
Was my party guests screaming, “We’ve run out of beer!”
I laughed for a moment, said, “They’re pulling my leg,”
For I had just tapped a half-barrel keg.
“No, really, we’re out!” someone shrieked out of fright.
And the crowd grew more restless, surely there would be a fight.
“Now relax,” I said calmly “I’ve got plenty more brew.”
“I’ve got Coors in the pantry, and Schlitz in the loo.”
But my pantry was bare, and my fridge empty, too,
Gone, too was the six-pack I kept in the loo.
My pulse quickly rose and my heart sank with fear
For what kind of people could drink that much beer?
I looked at my guests; some invited, some not.
And I smelled the unmistakable sweet smell of pot.
Then I saw two girls giggle with glassy-eyed grins.
There was no mistaking: It was the Bush Twins.
They had drank all my beer and smoked all my stash.
Now I was lamenting my Christmas Eve bash.
The girls were shot-gunning the last can of Bud,
When up on the roof I heard a great THUD!
Then down from the chimney came a jolly fat dude.
He said, “Ran out of beer? Aw, man that’s just rude.
“Lucky for you, you’ve been a good boy.
“So I will provide you with great Christmas joy.”
And out of his sack he proceeded to bring
cases of beer (Oh, it made my heart sing).
More Bud and more Coors, even Michelob Light
More Killian’s and Beck’s; what a wonderful sight!
My guests started cheering, the Bush girls did flips.
Even the secret service were whetting their lips.
The Kennedy’s came by; John Daly did, too.
The Spirit of Christmas was sure coming through.
I looked out my window and spotted St. Nick
Chugging a pitcher, and chugging it quick!
And I heard him exclaim as he flew fast away,
“Drink, but don’t drive” as he crashed his new sleigh.