The Burned-Out Christmas Poem
T'was the night before
Christmas and all through the station,
Everyone's bitching who's not on vacation.
There are no stockings hung and nobody cares,
You may find some candy in the cushions of the chairs.
The moral is as high as a
centipedes chin,
Waiting in limbo for the crap to begin.
And right on schedule the phone starts to sing,
We need to go pick up a drunk ding-a-ling.
After running all night
we then get to bed,
Puff up our pillows and descend our heads.
My partner lets out one hell of a yawn,
You'd be stupid to wake him until it is dawn.
And suddenly there's a
knock at the door,
It's Santa Claus and it's a quarter to four.
"I demand that you patch up my thumb right away",
"So I can get on with the rest of my day".
So, needless to say I had
to be rude,
To this pot-bellied a$$ with the attitude.
No one wakes us in the middle of the night,
And is rude and demanding and don't get a fight.
We dragged him inside by
his nappy a$$ hair,
And beat him senseless on the Lazy-Boy chair.
We then got a call in the middle of the bout,
"By sleigh and reindeer, Medic Seven's in route".