OVER THE RIVER

Over The River

Over the river
And through Grant Woods
Through Hallmark scenes we go.
Through colors of white
That are not quite right
Not even for pissed-on snow.

If Currier and Ives
Tends to give you the hives
You really might not want to go.
By now we have cars
And thank your stars
No shoes for the horse to throw.

Old men in jeans
In bucolic scenes
From a hundred years ago.
Don’t be in a rush
As driving through slush
Can cause accidents, you know.

Turkey and dressing
And Parker rolls
May suit the day just fine,
But a warning here
I’ll make it clear
You might not like mulled wine.

When you have eaten
While women work
The men can go off and drink.
The men getting shitfaced
A seasonal disgrace,
The gals keep their minds on the sink.

Later while driving back ,
The men passed out,
The women behind the wheel.
They women all try
To figure out why
They go through this yearly ordeal.

 

(Yes, folks. This is yet another one of my infamous Iconoclastic Christmas Carols.)

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