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

But it always turns out this way

Here I am with my hand

He took his sister from his head

And then painted her on the sheets

And then he rolled her up in grass and trees

And they kissed 'til they were dead

This ain't no holiday

But it always turns out this way

Here I am with my hand

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, no, no

But it always turns out this way

Here I am with my hand

This ain't no holiday

But it always turns out this way

Here I am with my hand