I was walking past the shopping mall when a shopman barred my way,
He said, son, are you ready? It’ll soon be Christmas Day,
I’ll sell to you a Christmas tree, some baubles, Christmas crackers,
A turkey and some Toblerone, and a box of chocolate Trackers.
I said, I need no Christmas stuff, I have my simple ways,
But he looked at me quite strickenly, ‘twas not the words that pays,
He said, I have four Mormon wives and four score Mormon kids,
Who’ll pay for all their Christmas stuff, not the Asians or the Yids?
Please come into my humble shop and spend-up all your money,
It’s Christmas Eve and I must make my shopman’s milk and honey,
My till is overflowing, but sadly, that is bunk,
For I must make three million, by selling you this junk.
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