Not a Cabledog was sober not even the Housemouse
The Harleys and trucks were parked on the lot with care
Everbody was hoping the checks would soon be there
The children were all nestled snug in there beds
While visions of ipods danced through their heads
and mama in her leathers and me flyn colors
Just smoked a fatty for that long winter ride
When out in the parking lot up pulled the hammer
to much beer I had a stammer
A way to the window I was stumbling drunk
Tripped on my boots and dropped my stash
The moon on the brest of my newly taken bride
gave a luste of mid day to the objects below
When what to my eyes should appear
Fling and Brakefield in the Hummer were here
Like a young cabledog so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick
More rapid than beagles the hounds they came
And he wistled and Shouted and called me by name
Now WHITFIELD Santa Said with eyes so blue
Hel.l na he brought a bottle too
I said Santa what is that
He did him a line and bounced like a kat
Ya never see the **** like this
Give some to your old lady and she'll give you a kiss
With one big line Santa was gone
Brakefield handed out the checks
And the party was on
I don't do drugs ,just through it in for some cheer
Have a happy New Year
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL
WHITFIELD
