Down in the workshop all the elves were makin' toys For the good Gentile girls and the good Gentile boys When the boss busted in, nearly scared 'em half to death Had a rifle in his hands and cheap whiskey on his breath From his beard to his boots he was covered with ammo Like a big fat drunk disgruntled Yuletide Rambo And he smiled as he said with a twinkle in his eye,
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