Santopause

People say, “Santa lives at the North Pole”
But they have no proof, he could be a Creole
They say he is round, with cherry red cheeks
But he could be blushing because he is meek
Does he have a list that he checks twice
I’d be scared if I knew he saw me at night
But I wonder, how old is Santa? He is quite gray
Even if he stays up through nights and days
But then, why are their layaways?
Why doesn’t he live up his old age?
So, my question is, if he is real
What feeling should he make you feel?
Happy? Sad? Afraid to sleep?
To say, “Tis the season to be jolly, creep?”
Oh no, I think Santa’s just for gags
I mean, he doesn’t give you toys with tags
And I’m sure he doesn’t make playdoh
Not up there, with all of that snow
He’d be much better in the music world
And I bet you still he’d be unfurled
Smile for me Santa, I want to see your grill
Flyin’ in the sky, with your hundred dollar bills
Rollin’ in your Royce with bright red lights
No need for Rudolph when you hit the clubs tonight
Wait, I just thought, you’d be horrid there too
You don’t say much and what would Rudolph do?
Not much rhymes with “ho, ho, ho”
Pimps and rappers don’t drink hot cocoa
You can’t put spinners on a sleigh
And who’d bring the kids presents before Christmas Day?
So I guess Santa, you’re cool in my book
But if you come down my chimney, expect a right hook