Dashing through the snow, almost in the nude,
Santa's bollocks glow, how nice to be so rude.
The bell at the whorehouse rings, he's reserved a cracking tart,
She always wears his foreskin down,
And at sixty-nine she don't fart.

Chorus:
Jingle balls, jingle balls, shag 'em all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride on the eve of Christmas day, HEY,
Jingle balls, jingle balls, none of us are gay,
Oh what fun it is to shag on a one horse open sleigh.

Santa's on his way, his tunic's round his knees,
He's got his end away, and Rudolph ain't too pleased.
Up on the rooftop stood, rude thoughts his mind does dwell,
Starts playing with his pud, and some semen he does spill.
Chorus

The whore had squeezed him dry, Santa's got to go,
His foreskin she did fry, so he drags it in the snow.
Walks up to the sleigh, slips on a patch of come,
His legs are pulled away, he's got bruises on his bum.
Chorus

To Greenland he must go, to rest his mighty arse,
Children must now forgo, toys of which they've asked.
The moral is quite clear, while Santa's getting drunk,
To stop bruises on your rear, don't tread in reindeer spunk.
Chorus