Twas the day after Christmas, thank God, thank the lord.
Kids are fine but not the bank, nor credit card.
Kin’s all happy with their presents so crappy,
Dinner was good, albeit slap-happy,
But January, February, March is gunna be hard.

The choirs were singing, all angels a-wing.
Santa was everywhere, ring-ding-aling.
Tis the season to be giving,
Charge with the card, charges are hidden,
So hollow the echo of hearing cash registers sing.

I think of the gifts I’ve received and I’ve gifted.
How my heart soared with the hearts I’ve lifted.
But now see the bills and the hills to be climbed,
It’s killed my thrills, sent chills to my spine,
I look at the larder and, oh, how priorities shifted.

Left-over turkey, left-over cake,
Spuds and onions I can mash and re-bake.
Schoolbooks I’ll hire, uniforms I’ll make
Be June before I see a steak.

I can pawn the jewelry, sell the car,
Walk to my jobs, farewell to the bar.
Perhaps I can borrow from ma and pa,
But how did the rollercoaster get me this far.

Next year, no fear, you’ll hear my Christmas cheer,
Cos I'll have bought nothing, except for my beer.
This time was the last time I’ll take part in the Yule crime,
No more crying, vengeance will be all mine,
Just love and cuddles for those held so near and so dear.