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A Visit From St. Nicholson Lyrics

Album Name : Bob Rivers & Twisted Radio - Twisted Christmas Boxed Set
Release Date : 2007-11-20
Song Duration : 4:32

Bob Rivers A Visit From St. Nicholson


Twas' the fright before Christmas
No one upset me
With a big bowl of popcorn, watching TV

I stretched, gave a yawn, settled back in my chair.
In hopes that St. Nicholson soon would be there.
The children were lying awake without sleep
They'd seen all his movies; He gives them the creeps.

I'd cued up "Cuckoo's Nest" with my trusty remote
To the part where he had all the nuts in the boat?
When out in the yard, there arose such a noise
I turned off the TV to see what it was.
And what to my wandering eyes should approach
But the Los Angeles Lakers, and Pat Riley, their coach!
The limo was racing, the team at its heels
That's when I saw him: the man at the wheel.
He ranted and cursed, and waved round his swizzel stick
And I knew in a second it must be Jack Nick.

More rapid than the Celtics these Lakers they came
He screamed like a mad man and called them by name:
"Now Magic, now Worthy, now Scott, and Kareem.
On Cooper, on Rambis, and the rest of the team."

Down the chimney St. Nicholson came with a groan.
Then he brushed off the suit and said, "Honey, I'm
home."

He was wearing a trench coat. With beer it was stained.
And his shirt was clawed to shreds by Shirley Maclaine
He had a fat face and a flabby beer belly.
From too many trips to the bar and the deli.
He said, "Its tough when an actor becomes fat and lazy.
I only get calls to play weirdo's and crazies. And
middle-aged has-been's with washed up careers. But I'll
fix them all and play Santa this year!"

And with that, he buried his head in the sack and said,
"Lets see what you get from your old buddy Jack. A
hatchet for Daddy..."
He reared back his head.
"To scare all those little buggers upstairs in bed. And
a stiff drink for mommy in a nice tall glass. She could
really use something to kill that bug up her chimney."

With a wink of his eye and a twist of his face, he
threw all the stockings into the fireplace. What could
I do?
What could I say?
What would I wear on my feet Christmas day?

I asked for a reason,
and turning his head,
he looked straight at me,
and here's what he said:

"Why? You wanna know why? Do you REALLY wanna know why,
pal? I'll tell you why.

When you're out Christmas shopping. You know, doing
your little "Christmas" things. With all your little
Christmas friends. Spreadin all that Christmas cheer,
with those stupid Christmas songs? Did you ever stop
and think of pickin up a little something for old Jack?
Did you ever stop to think of what Jack might like for
Christmas? You know, Jack. From the movies. UP on the
big screen. Pourin his heart out, givin it everything
he's got, day in and day out, just tryin as hard as he
can to bring a tiny little bit of sunshine into your
miserable little humdrum lives? Did you ever think of
good ole' Jack? For a second? NO! Not once! Maybe old
Jack just wasn't that good. Maybe I wasn't good enough
in the Postman Always Rings Twice. Acting my guts out
for you in that one. Cuckoo's Nest, the Shining,
Witches of frickin Eastwick, Prizzi's frickin Honor.
All for you, Pal. Just to brighten things up for you.
Not good enough though, is it? No, you want me to
brighten up the Christmas season too? Isn't that what
you want, Pal? Okay, lets make things real bright
around here. What do you say we decorate the tree?
String up these pretty lights here. Oh, she's looking
brighter already. What do you say we take this cute
little angel and ram her on the top branch, huh? How
about some gasoline for the whole thing? I mean, lets
make her just as bright as she can be. What do you say
we light her up and chuck her through the old picture
window here? No point in having a tree as bright as all
that without giving the neighbors a chance to see,
don't you think? There, aren't you glad ole' Jack
stopped by?"

The flames towered brightly in the cold, wintry sky
As he made for his limo and bade his goodbye.
And an age may unfold air I fail to regret
That visit from St. Nicholson, which I'd sooner forget.
But I swear by the goose bumps upon my skin
That I'll always remember that devilish grin.
And his voice, crying out as he faded from sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and I hope I never see you
again for as long as I live, for crying out loud!"



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