Santa Tracker

Next year there is no Christmas,
I am sorry for the sadness.
Though, in fairness, I am here to say
You’re at fault for all this badness.

It seems you didn’t clean your toys,
Before you went to bed.
When Santa came in he slipped on one,
Broke his neck and now he’s dead.

Oh, don’t cry now little children,
‘Cause no one likes a whiner.
I’m sure you’ll get a smaller sentence,
Since you’ll be tried as a minor.