At the Christmas parade in the town of Holly Pond,
The only thing I really need is one small magic wand,
To clear a path in front of me like Moses and the sea,
And have a perfect view of things that slowly pass by me.
The boys are cheering, the men are hooting, and I can't see a thing,
But rears, and backs, and pockets, and dirty ol' blue jeans.
No one will scoot or slide or share the sidewalk right up front,
I'm in the back with strollers and bags, I feel just like a runt.
From all the yells and all the hoots I know who's now advancing;
It's the buxom, jiggly, scantily dressed nine ladies dancing.
The wives are poking all the men and covering up their eyes;
The young 'ens pupils are dilated, their innocence compromised.
I feel like Zacchaeus without a tree with Jesus walking past,
And all I see is Granny's rumpus, I think she may have gas.
Don't want no teeth or fancy boots or toys nor a football,
All I want this year for Christmas is to grow 'bout six feet tall.
