I go out on that evening
Ho ho ho, I'm flying away
I come home in the morning
so bruised I can't get out of the sleigh!
I'm so injured and tired
Man I'm just feeling sorry for myself
Grab a bourbon! Go out back, maybe kick an elf.

And why all this ire?
Two billion lounge rooms leave their mark
It's like barbed wire
If you're stumbling Santa in the dark.

And it keeps getting harder
with the clutter these guys keep 'round their place
Guess I'm some sort of martyr
Soot all over my clothes, my beard, my face!
Man I ain't getting nowhere
Do you want to know what real pain is?
The seven millionth deck chair
or coffee table on the shins

Tell ya, I'm no liar
On some roofs it's really hard to park
I'm a top gun flier,
but I'm stumbling Santa in the dark.

Heavy bag on my shoulder
and a red wooly coat down to my knees
It works so well when it's colder
but in Sydney it's 98 degrees

When I'm doing my rounds
I'm sometimes starving for a bite
Now listen here, I'm not hungry
for yet more milk and @#$! cookies, all right?
I'm lying here, in traction
and I'm revising my naughty/nice kid book
Their light switch inaction
ensures they're not getting off the hook

And why all this ire?
Two billion lounge rooms leave their mark
It's like barbed wire
If you're stumbling Santa in the dark.

A service provider
like me should retire, with a purple heart
Make your room lighter,
spare a thought for old Santa in the dark.
spare a thought for old Santa in the dark.
spare a thought for old Santa in the dark.