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,