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