Next Christmas
Every year for Christmas, my family give me stuff
Like socks and scarves and underwear, it's just not good enough
I drop big hints, a clue or two of what I'd really like
A trip afar, a sporty car a Harley motorbike
But all I get each Christmas is something I can wear
A silly game, a photo frame, it really isn't fair
So next year I will tell them, and I know that they will moan
Forget my Christmas presents I'm going to get my own
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