The Holiday Song

Well, sit right down my wicked son
And let me tell you a story
About the boy who fell from glory
And how he was a wicked son

This ain't no holiday, oh no
But it always turns out this way
(Here I am) Here I am, with my hand, yeah

He took his sister from his head
And impregnated her on the sheets
And they rolled her up in grass and trees
And they kissed 'til they were dead
They kissed 'til they were dead

This ain't no holiday, oh no
But it always turns out this way
(Here I am) Here I am, with my hand, yeah

Well, sit right down my evil son
And let me tell you a story
About the boy who fell from glory
And how he was a wicked son

This ain't no holiday, oh no
But it always turns out this way
(Here I am) Here I am, with my hand, yeah
With my hand, yeah

This ain't no holiday, oh no
But it always turns out this way
(Here I am) Here I am, with my hand, yeah
With my hand, yeah

With my hand, yeah
With my hand, yeah
With my hand, yeah
With my hand, yeah