Twas the day after Christmas

Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house, Every creature was hurtin’ even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead; Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor, While upstairs the family continued to snore.

And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans, I went into the kitchen and started to clean.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.

The driver was smiling, so lively and grand; The patch on his jacket said “U.S. POSTMAN.”

With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox. Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.

Bill after bill, after bill, they still came. Whistling and shouting he called them by name:

“It's Macy's, then Bloomies, now Pennys and WalMart, Here’s Robinsons, Sears and Best Buy, and Target."

To the tip or your limit, every store, every mall, Now chargeaway-chargeaway-chargeaway all!”

He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work. He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.

He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road, Driving much faster with just half a load.

Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer, “Enjoy What You Bought. . . You’ll Be Paying All Year!”