But it's hysterically macabre
That someone's pot a Santa hat
On what used to be Old Bob
In life this would have been a crime
To mock the homeless and insane
But now it's wholly justified
Since he's out to eat our brain.
He staggers as he did in life
From 4th to Central Ave
The only difference being now:
How many digits he should have
At first it was a left pinky gone
And then the thumb and ring
For a while he had a peace sign left
Now he's lost the whole darn thing.
He staggers, handless, up and down
In tassled Santa's cap
Though we fly to our windows to see this sight
There's no long winter's nap.
This santa has no reindeer
And can't tell naughty from nice
We watch him pace the snowy streets
And fall down on the ice
We're shocked that we can see him
Since all the lights are out
Then suddenly we city folk see
What that "luster of mid-day" stuff's about
We hope he'll skip our chimney.
His present, he can keep
But whoever dared to don him
With that hat, we almost weep
In the terror of this crisis
Population cut in half
Just the sight of Zombie Santa
Man, we needed that good laugh!
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