Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Bob Rivers
Twas' the fright before Christmas, no one upset me
With a big bowl of popcorn, watching TV
I stretched, gave a yawn, settled back in my chair
In hopes that St. Nicholson soon would be there
The children were lying awake without sleep
They'd seen all his movies; He gives them the creeps
I'd cued up "Cuckoo's Nest" with my trusty remote
To the part where he had all the nuts in the boat?
When out in the yard, there arose such a noise
I turned off the TV to see what it was
And what to my wandering eyes should approach
But the Los Angeles Lakers, and Pat Riley, their coach!
The limo was racing, the team at its heels
That's when I saw him: the man at the wheel
He ranted and cursed, and waved round his swizzel stick
And I knew in a second it must be Jack Nick
More rapid than the Celtics these Lakers they came
He screamed like a mad man and called them by name:
"Now Magic, now Worthy, now Scott, and Kareem
On Cooper, on Rambis, and the rest of the team."
Down the chimney St. Nicholson came with a groan
Then he brushed off the suit and said, "Honey, I'm home."
He was wearing a trench coat. With beer it was stained
And his shirt was clawed to shreds by Shirley MacLlaine
He had a fat face and a flabby beer belly
From too many trips to the bar and the deli
"It's tough when an actor becomes fat and lazy
I only get calls to play weirdo's and crazies
And middle-aged has-beens with washed up careers
But I'll fix them all, and play Santa this year!"
And with that, he buried his head in the sack and said
"Lets see what you get from your old buddy Jack
A hatchet for Daddy," He reared back his headb
"To scare all those little buggers upstairs in bed
And a stiff drink for mommy in a nice tall glass
She could really use something to kill that bug up her chimney"
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his face
He threw all the stockings into the fireplace
What could I do? What could I say?
What would I wear on my feet Christmas day?
I asked for a reason, and turning his head
He looked straight at me, and here's what he said:
"Why? You wanna know why? Do you really wanna know why, pal? I'll tell you why
"When you're out Christmas shopping; you know, doing your little Christmas things, with all your little Christmas friends, spreadin' all that Christmas cheer, with those stupid Christmas songs, did you ever stop and think of pickin' up a little something for old Jack? Did you ever stop to think of what Jack might like for Christmas? You know, Jack? From the movies? Up on the big screen, pourin' his heart out, givin' it everything he's got, day in and day out, just trying as hard as he can to bring a tiny little bit of sunshine into your miserable little humdrum lives?
"Did you ever think of good ole' Jack? For a second? NO! Not once!
Maybe old Jack just wasn't that good, huh? Maybe I wasn't good enough in the Postman Always Rings Twice. Acted my guts out for you in that one. Cuckoo's Nest, the Shining, Witches of frickin' Eastwick, Prizzi's frickin' Honor! All for you, Pal. Just to brighten things up for you. Not good enough though, is it? No, you want me to brighten up the Christmas season too, huh? Isn't that what you want, pal?
"Okay, lets make things real bright around here. What do you say we decorate the tree? String up these pretty lights here? Oh, she's looking brighter already. Why don't we take this cute little angel and ram her on the top branch, huh? Huh? Ha ha ha! How about some gasoline for the whole frickin' thing? I mean, lets make her just as bright as she can be. What do you say we light her up and chuck her through the old picture window here, huh pal? No point in having a tree as bright as all that, without giving the neighbors a chance to see, don't you think? There, aren't you glad ole' Jack stopped by? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh?"
The flames towered brightly in the cold, wintry sky
As he made for his limo and bade his goodbye
And an age may unfold ere I fail to regret
That visit from St. Nicholson, which I'd sooner forget
But I swear by the goose bumps upon my skin
That I'll always remember that devilish grin
And his voice, crying out, ere he faded from sight
"Merry Christmas to all, and I hope I never see you again for as long as I live, for crying out loud!"
A Visit From St. Nicholson was written by Brian Silva & Dennis Amero & Bob Rivers.
A Visit From St. Nicholson was produced by Bob Rivers.