Santa ain’t a Southerner

I love that man called Santa Claus,

I always have, it’s true!

He’s fat and kind and loving,

And brings joy to me and you!


But I have an observation,

it came to me this year.

The fat man ain’t a Southerner,

although we hold him dear.


If Santa were from Dixie,

he wouldn’t fly, you know!

Us folks down here in Southern climes

just cannot drive in snow.


He wears a suit of red and white,

his belt is big and wide

Why don’t he just wear cargo-shorts

and flip-flops on his ride?


If Santa were a Southerner,

the reindeer would be doomed;

Those racks would all adorn the walls

of Santa’s family room.


And Mrs. Santa wouldn’t wear

that long red winter dress!

She’d wear a Christmas tank-top,

and have Santa tattooed on her breast.


A Southern Santa wouldn’t look

milk or cookies, no!

He’d want a glass of sweet iced tea,

And barbecue, to go.


No, Santa’s not a Southerner,

but that’s OK by me.

He’s always left a lot of joy

beneath the Christmas tree.


Perhaps one day he’ll move down South!

A snow-bird like the rest!

Beneath the Mason-Dixon line,

by warm sunshine caressed!


But if he does I want his job!

Christmas is my season!

I have a lot of camouflage,

and seems reindeer’s in season…

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