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                                                        Up To the Door                                                            (sung to the tune of Up On the Housetop)

Up to the door the driver springs.
Ding, dong, ding the doorbell rings
You’re not at home to take the package,
Leaving it ripe for old-school hackage.

Ho, ho, ho!
I run tiptoe.
Ho, ho, ho!
No one will know.
Up to the porch and,
Quick, quick, quick,
The presents you ordered
Have just been nicked.

First…Hey!…An iPhone for little Nell,
Or on Ebay it could sell.
With all that money I’d be rich—
Could gorge on champagne and a cheese sandwich.


Next…Wow!…an X-box for little Will.
Destiny ain’t just a game, I feel.
Oh! Christmas morning will be so jolly.
Of course, for you it will be melancholy.


Dang! You ain’t near the fool I thought.
On home surveillance I was caught.
My face is splashed across the news.
I’ll be sent down to pay my dues.

Ho, ho, ho!
I’m such a schmo.
Ho, ho, ho!
How could I know?
Though in the joint
I’ll take some mocking,
I’ve learned next year to
Wear a stocking.