Stay Away Mr Santa Claus


Dear Mr Santa Claus, do please stay away
Do not visit on Christmas Eve or early Christmas Day
My children now have all the toys, and it will not mean a thing
If you work your elves to death as there’s nothing you can bring

They’ve got all the games and puzzles, dolls, and little plastic drums
They’ve got DIY doctor’s kits complete with plastic thumbs
They’ve got more pens than Partners and more paper than Wernham Hogg
In their ‘office’ are pencil sharpeners in the shape of Jacob Rees-Mogg
They’re up to their ears in Play-Doh with ersatz modeller’s clay
Oh, Mr Santa Claus do please stay away

There are piles of books and comics in towers that reach the moon
And a billion magnetic letters that could reach that far if strewn
They’ve got those shoes with wheels on and skateboards by the brace
They’ve got plastic swords and wooden shields and children’s peppermint mace
They’ve got more water pistols than water that can be sprayed
Oh, Mr Santa Claus do please stay away Instrumental

There are jigsaws, bricks, magician’s tricks, fairy costumes, quite a few
More footballs than a millipede could kick, not just him but his family too
There are starter trikes, intermediate bikes, and racers they haven’t rode
And indoor tents though they don’t make sense, they’ve got ‘em by the load
They’ve got half a dozen kites each that have never seen the light of day
Oh, Mr Santa Claus do please stay away

They’ve got more rocking horses than stables at Versailles
But if you check the sources, I might concede it is a tie
They’ve tiny kitchens, cyclotrons, and fake Moschino bags
All looking fairly real by God, compared to their flea-bitten rocking nags
They’ve sewing kits, some real some not, but they can still crochet
Oh, Mr Santa Claus do please stay away Instrumental

They’ve got skipping ropes and books of jokes and drifts of kinetic sand
Well that’s the stuff that can kill your pets so well as if it’s been planned
There are plastic cups and saucers, plates, spoons, forks, and knives
With all this crap around it’s a wonder that we’re living normal lives
Even their stash of chocolate eggs are knock off’s by Fabergé
So, Mr Santa Claus do please stay away

There are mats that look like cities laid out for Matchbox cars
And bears that sing them ditties over many woeful bars
They’ve got Terry’s chocolate orreries, and a praline universe
An edible Duplo cemetery and a liquorice Daimler Hearse
There’s an Action Man Dionne Warwick singing ‘Do You Know the Way to San Jose’
Oh, Mr Santa Claus do please stay away Instrumental


Now my children might have all the toys, but there’s one you might bring
And if you could get it, I would bet it, really would be the thing
Some sheets of rubber wallpaper for the rooms where they ricochet
If they hurt themselves again this year, I’ll be up in court they say

So Mr Santa Claus, I plead with my last breath
Forget everything I’ve just said and work your elves to death
Yes, Mr Santa Claus I’d like to hear your sleigh
If you throw in a couple of straightjackets as well, that will be ok, with me…