Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the motel
Not a creature was stirring in Heaven or Hell
The salt ring was placed 'round the front door with care
To keep out the black smoke that filled the night air
The Winchesters was snuggled all warm in their beds
With visions of exorcisims filling their heads
Sam with his laptop and Dean with his porn
Had just got to sleep all wounded and worn
When out in the lot there came such a bang
The two hunters woke up, thinking 'Demon or fang?'
Out the door to their Impala they ran like the wind
To face werewolves or ghosts or men who changed skin
The full moonlight shone on the motel below
And showed the two boys just what lay in the snow
But what should their sleep deprived eyes should appear?
But a moulding old sleigh and eight ghostly reindeer
And the ghoulish small elf that drove such a sight
Was clear to them in the pale moonlight
This haunted Sant Nick, his eyes holding a gleam
Called out through the night to his haunted sleigh team
"Now Slasher! Now Basher! Oh Gonner and Lector!
On Killer! On Sinner! On Goner and Fester!"
Up on top the motel is the couse the team flew
With a sleigh full of evil (and gingerbread too)
Both the Winchesters saw and heard on the roof
The creaking and moaning of each long-dead hoof
The two ran to their room and, armed, turned around
Down the chimney came the elf with a terrible bound
He was moulded and rotten from time in the earth
And covered in ashed from sliding down the hearth
With a bloody old bag, which he had on his back
He looked like a killer with the police on his tracks
His face, how frightening! His voice was like death!
His body was boney like an addict to meth
His mouth filled with teeth that were sharp like small studs
His once off-white beard was soaked through with dried blood
The stump of a finger he held clasped in his jaw
He was thw worst thing Sam and Dean ever saw!
His innards and ribs showing through his slashed gut
His eyes were deep-set and as black as a rut
He was scary and freaky, this mean ghost of an elf
Sam and Dean flinched back, inspite of themselves
The elf in his eye and the mean twist of his head
Told the hunters they had everything to dread
He advanced on the two; now it's time for their work!
Dean cocked his gun with a violent, mean jerk
Santa stopped for a moment and glared at the man
And knocked Dean to the floor with a twist of his hand!
Sam lunged for his gun and took aim post-haste
With one well-placed shot, Zombie Clause lost his face!
This mock of St. Nick stumbled back with a scream
And went up the chimney as quick as a dream
The two young adults ran back out to the lot
As the ghoul flew away, they gave one last shot
He fell to the ground where he writhed and moaned
With one shot to the heart, Santa died with a groan
Sam and Dean gave a sigh and the walked out of sight
"Just once," Sam exclamed, "Can we sleep through the night?"
