Yesterday on the stroke of three
I gave my faiith and hope to charity
And betrayed my family tree
To hatchetmen and women who came
From where the streets have hyphened names
Lumberjacks and lumberjanes
The fleapit circus came
With a cast of plastered clowns
And to my crying shame
I let the bastards grind me down
So what will Father Christmas bring
If everyone's gone shoplifting
And do you know the saddest thing of all
Is that there's nothing worth stealing
Anymore
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