Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

O come ye to Bethlehem to see me

You know dasher and dancer and prancer and vixen

And so you shake your ass around and try to get it to drop in the toilet

Sometimes he's nutty Sometimes he's corny

When Christmas leaves he must leave, too

And finally it does

A Present For Santa

That's right, Santa, and we love each and every one of them.

And hear the angel's something

Hello, everyone, and welcome to McKemicks.

That's why they're lame

Taoists, Krishnas, Buddhists And all you atheists, too

And, my dear, we're still good-bye-be-de bye-ing

After he has sex with it He'll eat up all he can

Let every heart prepare me room

- I'm gonna chop off you're legs! - No, you idiot!

Maybe we'll have ourselves a little Christmas right here.

That's why they're lame

But now for our next song, hold on to your boot straps,

Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel With dreidel I shall play

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

There's Princess Diana holding burning mistletoe

Here we are as in olden days

Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel With dreidel I shall play

Okay, children, let's take our seats.

The stars are brightly shining

Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel I made you out of clay