I used to spend my holidays alone
An anthropomorphic oar, pretty bored
Sittin inside of his home, oh no

But then you met me, and I suggested we
Go on a little holiday trip, really quick
And we went down to the Bahamas for a dip
And we just kept going

Christmas can be every day
When you’re travelin' the world and you’re an oar and you’re gay
We ate tangerines in Tokyo
Then caught a flight to Borneo
And spent a day in Rekjavik
The hot dogs there were pretty sick

Every trip ya take is a gift
When you love the livin' hell out of the one that you’re with
We’ve been to Bangalore
and BogoTA
Had onion rings in Omaha

Got high as hell in Amsterdam
And ate up all our Christmas ham

God damn that was a damn good ham

And now the future that we make is our own
Close your eyes and throw a dart at the map, and that’s that,
Off to destinations unknown
I hope wherever we go has more ham

Travelin’s such a wonderful ride
But it’d be a drag without you here at my side
Why don’t we stop for brunch in Saskatoon
Namibia to see some dunes
Chicago just to peep the bean
And also bone beneath the bean

Antarctica if we’ve got time
I hear that France has decent wine
To London when the tea is served
And maybe skip St. Petersburg

Hey what’s the deal with Idaho?
Like should we bother? I dunno.
Singapore or Bora Bora?
Either, oar, cause I adore ya

Either Oar

This Christmas
My wishlist
Isn’t so much about the gettin
But the hope that I can give

Saint Nicholas
A gift that
Let’s him know how much we love him
If in fact he ever really even lived

Santa Claus, you are magic, but you also maybe weren’t real
And you slapped that guy
Who maybe shit himself to death, look it up
We didn’t cover it
But he allegedly shit himself to death
Here’s a drawing 

Santa Claus!
You saved the pickle boys
And did a bunch of other stuff
And now you’re bones
But even bones deserve some love
So here’s a song
From me to you
Santa Claus

You… you look like you want to sing?
Do you want to sing?

Thanks Professor for that sweet, sweet song
I was a real sourpuss but now I see that I’m wrong

The holiday season’s not the time for holding grudges
It’s a time for giving gifts and eatin cheese and tasty fudges

I’m ol’ Saint Nick and I’m here to say
I used to be a bishop but I’m bones today

Every year I bring joys and toys to kids
But frankly there’s lots of other things I did


Saint Nicholas saved the pickle boys
Ain’t ya heard? I saved the pickle boys
Sounds absurd n far fetched but you sure as shit can bet
That Saint Nicholas saved the pickle boys

Now what’d I do?
You save the pickle boys
The pickle who?
The pickle boys?
Who killed the butcher too?
Wait did you kill that butcher?

Ladies and gentlemen- recently barreled by a psychotic butcher
But resurrected by the clown prince of Christmas aka ME
PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR
THE PICKLE BOYYYYYS

Song For Santa

Burke and Hare

Blackbeard

Wakin up in the mornin
Drag your ass on outta the bed
Got a little somethin somethin
A-thump a-thumpin up in your head
Your ass is all clammy
Spots poppin up a freaky color of red
Catch yourself in the mirror
Lookin only slightly better than dead

You vomit, brush your teeth
And then you vomit once more
Then drain all of the fluid
From your freshly sprouted sores
Thermometer is tellin you
One hundred and four (THAT'S HOT!)
My dude you’re on your way
To rap-a-tap-a-tappin at death’s door

You got the pox!
Uh oh! Oh no no no
Not sure how best to console ya
But ya got the variola 
And you’ll probably die
But hey
On the bright side
You got a couple new friends
Who will be with you til the end
Count on us 
Scabs n pus

People can go viral 
In a myriad of ways
Unboxing vids, getting kicked in the nuts
Or tweetin shitty takes
But you picked the one that’ll leave you dead in 
Seven to seventeen days
Tis the reason for your lesions
And excruciating pains

You got the pox!
Whoops, yep you do— 
And if you think you’ve had enough then
Just wait til those blisters slough and
Sure you’ll probably die
But hey
On the bright side
You got a couple new friends
Who will be with you til the end
Count on us 
Scabs n pus
Look at us
Scabs n pus

You Got The Pox!

Here left to lurch
Twixt two lovely swaying birch
Trees: Igor of Kiev
Husband to a wife
Who would face near any strife
To avenge his savage death

Olga
She murdered the whole town
We frankly are surprised
She hasn’t thought to chop us down

Olga
Sainthood she attained
But to cross her is to doom yourself
To join the countless maimed

She’ll off your family, Merc your friends
She’ll hunt your cat and dog and when
You think she’s finally calling it a day
She’ll catch you when you’re unaware
Pour acid down your underwear
And laugh because she’s jokerfied that way

She’ll lop your toes into a jar
And pack it up and mail it far
And on your grandma’s birthday she will find
A bloody box addressed to her
Containing nothing less than your
Ten piggies and she’ll lose her god damn mind

Olga
She may be a saint
But rightly pissed to see her sweetie
Split right up the taint

Olga
Legit she’s got no chill
Piss her off if you’d like
To experience being killed

She’ll simply make you poop your pants
That’s right she’ll make you poop your pants
And if you’re think that you won’t poop your pants
Just wait because you’ll poop your pants
Because she’ll make you poop your pants
And kill you once you’ve pooped your poopy pants

You’ll hear a knocking at the door
And when you ask who’s there to your
Relief it’s just your neighbor Joan Calhoun
You open up
IT’S OLGA! FUCK!
She’ll kick your shins and punch your nuts
Then skin you while she sings a happy tune

She’ll slit your throat like that one scene
In Gone Girl, know the one I mean
Where NPH is-- well, you get the gist
If it’s not clear the message here
Is if you hold existence dear
Make sure you don’t end up on Olga’s list

OLGA!

The Borgia Family - Horrible Histories

Window Song - Puppet History Season 5

Hippodrome Song - Puppet History Season 6

Horrible Histories - Patchacuti

Hatshepsut
She was competent as hell
They tried to wipe her from the books
As far as we can tell

A pharaoh
You should know
She really held it down
Oh just because she kept the peace
She don’t deserve renown?

Hatshepsut
Oh you haven’t heard?
She stepped up and ruled Egypt
And raised Thutmose the Third

A queen
A king
Depends which glyphs you’ve seen
But by and large
She sure took charge
And really nailed the thing

Hatshepsut
A funny claim to fame?
Her husband, dad, and kinda son
They all had the same name!

A pharaoh
Who narrowly
Missed her chance to rule
But luckily the king-to-be
Was tied up with pre-school

Hatshepsut
If you’re still asking whom?
Just show’s a pharaoh’s greatness
Can’t be measured by their tomb

A queen supreme!
Yet surreptitiously interred
I should know, me and my bro
Were mummified with her

Hatshepsut!
Commit the name to memory
Because you see, regrettably
She happens to be dead and we
Can help her out enormously
Particularly spiritually
If every now and the-ish we
Could toss a kindly thought to she
Who nearly became history
Not via Egyptology
But lost for all eternity
Erased though it’s a mystery
Why anyone would possibly
Resort to such vile treachery
And so it’s with respect that we
Remember on occasion
She kicked ass.