Merry Little Elves

I sit upon my favorite chair,
On the night before Christmas Eve.
For you see it is my job to ready the toys
Before that bastard takes his leave.
My fellow elves are packing the bags
And our household is in such a daze,
For it's time for that Christmas cheer!
But I can't see it in the cigar haze.

"Work a little faster, now;
Get the bags packed before bed!"
That damn jolly obese Grinch says,
Putting merry-fricken words in our head.
Oh sure, we like to give,
And making children smile is our goal,
But hundreds of years making toys
Has taken its gruesome toll.

The reindeer get to play games,
And the bakers eat their treats,
But us poor elves work 24/7
And we sleep on our damn feet!
And if that isn't bad enough,
He can't even remember all our names!
He calls me Jingle, sometimes Jangle,
For to him we're all the same.

"Give us a break, Santa,
We work all day and night!"
He just smiles and exits the house,
And leaves on every blasted light.
"Screw you, Santa!"
The room shouts with a growl.
"That man is a taskmaster!"
We add with a scowl.

Alas, this is how every year ends
And it goes on through the next.
We hammer and we build,
Trying to act our very best.
Sure we get to eat the cookies
And sing Christmas songs of bliss,
But for once I would like to ask him,
"When the fuck you gonna read MY wish list?!"