The Story of St. Redneckerless

'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the trailer,
chill'ins wuz snuzzled in the'r beds
The socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.
Mama in her curlers
and me in my Earnhardt cap,
had just settled into our La-Z-Boys
for Wheel of Fortune and a nap.

My Ford truck was parked
on Its blocks in the yard,
In hopes that St. Nicholas
Would bring me some tars.

Then out in the vacant lot
I heart such a commotion,
I thought it was neighbor Clyde,
finally got his T'bird in motion.

I heaved out of my recliner
and to the window I flew,
Busted out the screen
and hollered to Ole Blue.

From the top of the shack to them there garbage bins
Now Dash Away! Dash Away! Dash Away youins!

When what to muh whiskey blind eyes should I see
But a Chevy S-10, pulled by eight flyin' possum.
With a fat nasty driver, so disgustin' and sick
I said "Shoot Fire!" That must be St. Nick!

He reached in his sack,
Then filled the kid's stockings,
His toys came from Big Lots and they weren't very nice
But he had lots of them and yuh can't beat the price.

He gave us a tape of them hound dogs that sing Jingle Bells.
Some Crisco, some Spam, some Oatmeal Cream pies,
And a Nascar T-shirt in Double X size.

When the presents were gone and he had no more,
He stumbled right through muh screen door.

He jumped in his pickup,
laid down on the horn,
And I'm not lyin',
they took off with their possum tails flyin'.

And I heard him cry out, with a strong southern drawl,
Merry Christmas you Rednecks,
See you all next year!

Semper Fidelis
Ricardo