The Jolliest Fat Man
Written By: David L. Lander & Michael McKean

It was Christmas Eve night at the poorhouse
And all of the paupers were there
I stepped in because it was snowing
And snow always screws up my hair


~By the pot-bellied stove, sat a pot-bellied man
~He spoke with some lumps in his throat
~His story was sad and his diction was bad
~And here is the song that he wrote:

I once was the jolliest fat man
With roses in all of my cheeks
I'd load up my sleigh every Christmas
And go on a drunk for two weeks

~My friends say they saw me on rooftops
~And sliding down chimneys at dawn
~With my reindeer in hand, I would glide 'cross the land
~And wake up on somebody's lawn

One morning my wife left this message:
"Each Christmas I've spent by myself
I'm sick of your stupid traditions
So I've run off to Spain with 'a' elf"

~Just then the old man started dying
~He screamed, "May the Lord take my soul!"
~We went through his wallet to see who he was
~His address read simply:
"North Pole"

~~So, the next time you go by the poorhouse
~~If, by the poorhouse, you go
~~Just take off your hat, to a dead guy who's fat
~~And whisper a silent "Ho-Ho"


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