The Holiday Song

Well, sit right down, my wicked son
And let me tell you a story
About the boy who fell from glory
And how he was a wicked son

This ain't no holiday, but it always turns out this way
Here I am with my hand

He took his sister from his head
And impregnated her on the sheets
And they rolled her up in grass and trees
And they kissed until they were dead

This ain't no holiday, but it always turns out this way
Here I am with my hand

Well, sit right down, my evil son
And let me tell you a story
About the boy who fell from glory
And how he was a wicked son

This ain't no holiday right now, but it always turns out this way
Here I am with my hand