On Christmas Day I was bad,
Because I was spying on Santa.
He was warming his hands by the fire,
While he dreamt of being in a choir,
Then he saw a flat tyre.
Once all the presents were put under the tree by Santa,
He went into the kitchen to have some Fanta.
He looked in every cupboard
And he saw some naughty parrots,
Eating up all the carrots.
On Christmas Day.