The Worst Christmas Ever

from by Men With Ven

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Written by Clift, Barratt, Marsh, Farmer

Trumpet: Justin Mitchell
Kids Choir: Stan Lawton, Elizabeth McWilliams, Lottie McWilliams

Mixed at Dan Swag's Emporium of Musical Delicacies

lyrics

Grandma lost her teeth
She was blowing the trombone
She found it a skip
As she was walking home
Dad went to pick her up
But one of his tyres was flat
Mum got so distracted
She tumble dried the cat


Then the Christmas tree caugh fire
The presents went up in smoke
We couldn’t buy another thing
Cos we were stony broke
Me mum said it’s the thought that counts
Aunty Val began to blub
So Uncle Keith said, ‘blow this!
I’m going down the pub.’

It was the worst Christmas ever
No turkey, no crackers, no beer
It was the worst Christmas ever
Since last year
 
The tropical fish were boiled alive
The dog pissed on the twiglets
Instead of stuffing in the bird
Me mum left in the giblets
The sherry was like vinegar
The gin was more like bleach
Grandad sang the ‘The Red Flag’
And ruined the Queens Speech

The neighbors had gone away
On holiday to Crete
But they left a CD of Susan Boyle
Playing on repeat
Our sister Mary and her kids
Drove us up the wall
The dog ate some of Granddad's pills
And pebble dashed the hall 

It was the worst Christmas ever
No turkey no crackers no beer
It was the worst Christmas ever
Since last year
It was the worst Christmas ever
A lot of grief and not a drop of good cheer
It was the worst Christmas ever
Until next year

The heating, the telly
The fridge all went on the blink
And Uncle Keith got off his face
And puked Mary’s mink
So auntie threw the gravy boat
All over Uncle Keith
We cut into the Christmas pud
And there were Grandma’s teeth

It was the worst Christmas ever
No turkey no crackers no beer
It was the worst Christmas ever
Since last year

It was the worst Christmas ever
A lot of grief and not a drop of good cheer
It was the worst Christmas ever
Since last year
Until next year
Same every year

Happy new year.

credits

from VENTASTIC, released September 28, 2015
Written by Clift, Barratt, Marsh, Farmer

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Men With Ven London, UK

Welcome to the apocalyptic knees up at the end of the world.

Three men and nearly as many chords, on the road from Barking to Deptford. Telling it the way it is, in pubs and markets, treading the highway and the sticky carpet.

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