Santa Is Tired Of Burning His Butt
Once a year, I deliver presents to children all over the world.
But sometimes I wonder why I do what I do for boys and girls.
Every time I go down a chimney, I singe my big butt.
Why do I keep doing this every year, I must be nuts.
I wish that Christmas would come in June or July.
If it came when people have no fires, my butt wouldn't get fried.
It's bad enough when Mrs. Claus and my elves laugh because of my gut.
But it hurts when I sit down because I have third degree burns on my butt.
Parents better leave their doors unlocked the next time Christmas comes around.
Because if they lock their doors, Santa Claus sure as hell won't be coming to town.
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A funny Christmas poem.