A Very Dripping, Sopping Holiday (released 12.22.2011)

Lyric sheet

All songs and lyrics by R. B. (...alas)

Fair warning:
Reading this lyric sheet along with the first listen may spoil a few "jokes" before they arrive.

Troy was a hunter and a dad
And the only things he had
Were little Bill and five hundred bucks in savings

December 20, at the shop
A deal too good to pass it up
A Weatherby Mark V, just five hundred dollars

A gun so perfect, a gun so nice
Easily worth four times the price
Troy threw down five Benjamins
And left the shop with the gun and a grin
But that grin disappeared
When Billy's voice rang in his ears
"Daddy, what did Santa, Daddy what did Santa,
Daddy what did Santa bring for Christmas"

Oh my Billy, love of my life,
Santa's come and gone
Empty wallet, empty stomachs, there's no
Christmas this year, son.

Troy choked back a tear or two
Cradling his rifle on the roof
Woefully staring at the winter night sky

There'd be no work for quite a while
How would he feed his starving child
How would he break the news there was no Christmas

When in the distance, in the sky
He heard a noise, and wiped his eyes
Looking through the rifle sight
He saw big game in the night
He doubted sanity, but then
He heard Billy's sweet voice again
"Daddy pull the trigger, Daddy pull the trigger

Oh my Billy, love of my life
Look what Daddy's won.
A billion presents, every one for you
Courtesy my gun.
And this blessed year, we feast on reindeer
Merry Christmas, son.

What child is this?
Or whose? Not mine, I can tell you that.
You might think when I said "I do"
I'd finally get to dip my wick in that.
But, oh no! She got excuses. She got those headaches.
She got Aunt Flo staying a week or more.
My balls got bluer, then her belly got bigger
What the fuck? I don't get none and she just goes and becomes heaven's whore?

You yammer on about virtue, "immaculate" my ass
I'm changing diapers but I've yet to score a lick of ass
Holding my wang in my hand, nursing my wounded pride
How would you feel if your wife was banging God on the side?

I know my baby's the perfect woman
Yeah, she's the perfect woman for me
She's so so sexy, even without makeup
Ain't no one better at lovin' me
I love my baby, so glad I found her
So glad to have her at Christmastime
Baby this Christmas, I just need one gift
There's only one thing that I'd like to be mine

Bitch, better buy me an Xbox
You better buy me a fucking Xbox
Or I'll tear out your heart with my hands
Stuff it down your throat to stifle your vapid whore tears

Oh sweet sweet baby, my one and only
You make this Christmas jolly as could be
Don't need no sweaters like you bought last year
There's only one thing that this man could need

Bitch, better buy me an Xbox
Let's be clear, I'm pretty serious about that
And don't forget the new Assassin's Creed
They say it's hard to walk without kneecaps or feet

(yyyyeah. this was Sandi's idea, not mine. blame her.)

I tell ya, married life is getting old
I need a lifestyle that puts me in control
For far too long I've repressed my dominant side
Master Santa can no longer be denied

So tie 'em up and tie 'em down
Tie a bow on 'em, I'm comin' to town
And every last one of you is naughty as hell
You'll learn to serve and obey me
And to take it up your chimney
First me, and then from all my elves

Not gonna take no "Santa Baby" crap
And fuck a red suit-- gimme leather chaps
You better kneel when I give my whip a crack
I'm Master Santa now, there ain't no goin' back

Tie 'em up and tie 'em down
Tell all the slaves Santa's comin' to town
And they'd better be good for goodness' sake
I'll hitch you all to my sleigh
Don't you know I'm into reindeer play
I'll ride that ass until it breaks

Look what I've brought for you this Yule
A ball gag and restraints to fix a mule
Now strip and kneel and avert your eyes
Santa's got one more golden surprise
Ho, ho, ho! You should be grateful it wasn't a dookie
Let's take a break for milk and cookies

For two millennia, I've tried to be a good dad
The best dad I could be
It's hard to find the time for my only Son
With all these humans pestering me
With millions of whiny prayers ringing in my ears
It's you or it's them, that much has become clear

Oh, my Jesus, look what I hath wrought
With this enormous gun.
Yes, this Christmas, I destroyed Earth for you.
Happy birthday, Son.


(contains elements from compositions by Walter "Jack" Rollins and Steve Nelson, Lee Greenwood, and Francis Scott Key, all in public domain or utilized / parodied under "fair use" doctrine.)

Oh say young Frosty was a holly jolly soul
When they finally called him up to serve his country
So he donned camoflage, was alive as he could be
And he proudly lost his life in the line of duty

When his mother got the letter, the official cause of death read:
"Snowmen tend to melt inside fatigues"
But you and I know better than to buy into that line
We know it was the liberal elite.

Well there's a war on Christmas, I read it in the news today
But ain't no one knows winning wars like the US of A
Light those trees up, deck the halls, and let our missiles fly
And let's celebrate this Christmas on the fourth of July.

Well they say young Frosty fought bravely in this war
Hell, he even had a chance to shoot Obama
But you just can't survive as a white man made of snow
In the hot studio lights of the lib'rul media

They might have taken Frosty, but we can't give up this fight
For the love of fellow man, and I'm not gay
Or they'll take away our freedom, all our guns and dualie trucks
Hell, we can't even force kids in school to pray

Let's fight this war on Christmas for the memory of Frosty
Let's give all our young men guns, they can borrow ten from me
Let's light those trees up, lo, behold the bald eagle's cry
"America needs Christmas on the fourth of July."

The enemy's formidable, a whole lot smarter than us all
He's got logic, reason and just cause
We've gotta fight for Fox TV, grits and hatin' sodomy
Jesus, the Ku Klux Klan and Santa Claus

And in this war on Christmas we must have victory
Send in all our troops to fight as long as it's not me
We'll light those trees up, bomb the coasts, make all those lib'ruls fry
And we'll celebrate this Christmas on the fourth of July.