The Christmas Spirits

Weeks before Christmas we went for the tree
On a cold, muddy lot; our tight family
To choose just the perfect greenery tall
To set in our living room, so late in the fall
We garnished each branch like a fat Christmas pig
The angel on top, still needed a wig
Her hair had been caught on another display
While packed in the attic since New Year's day

So don't think we panic with an angel that's bald
She still has her ass lit with bulbs slightly mauled
Curses to nasty rats that nest in the bins
Chewing Christmas wrappings and holiday tins
We patched up the ornaments best that we could
Never saw it coming, the rat from the hood
Remember this always, 'tis the time of year
To grab for the vodka, the rum and the beer