The PTA, the PTA,
I was Santa Claus at the schoolhouse for the PTA.



The parent-teacher's group, they called a meeting.
My wife, she says "You have to go, my dear.
It's the big, important Christmas party meeting
While all the papas who ain't sick appear."

I dozed off till the middle of the meeting
When the chairman shouted out so all could hear:
" Mrs. Yorgesson says that her yolly husband,
He will gladly be our Santy Claus this year."

The other papas looked relieved and happy.
They knew I'd been betrayed by my sweet wife.
And I always reek like that strong fellow Swanson
When Delilah cut his hair off with a knife.

The PTA, the PTA,
I was Santa Claus at the schoolhouse for the PTA.

On the night of the party I sneaked into the school.
The committee, they all met me there.
These giggling women are going to dress me
And glue on my whiskers and hair.

I go out into them big, red pants and black boots
They yak about seven feet wide.
When I got into it there was still plenty of room
For one good-sized reindeer to hide.



Then I walked into the school yimnasium.
The plan was that each little tyke
Would walk up and shake hands with ol' Santy
And tell me what presents they'd like.

The first kid was little Dagmar Larson
Who wanted a new kiddie car.
She patted my face with her wet little hand
Which was half full of warm chocolate bar.

The next kid in line was the young Scarbo boy.
I think that his first name is Mylo.
He's the orneriest brat in the whole darn school
And he's built yust like a brick silo.

"Last year," he says,
"You promised to bring me a real sharp sword and a gun.
And all that you brought was new shoes and a coat,
You dirty old son of a gun!

Then he yabbed his finger right in my eye
And I let out a heck of a groan.
And then he kicked my shin with his breast-holed shoe,
I was sure that he'd broken the bone.

Then old man good Warrenson picked his granddaughter up
And then he put her down on my lap.
His lighted cigar set my whiskers on fire;
They started to crackle and snap.

I yumped up and made a run for the door
As fast as my sore leg would go
And put out the fire in the snowbank
And cooled off my face in the snow.

I didn't dare go back, so I hurried on home
And closed my front door with a slam.
And in my own home, my dog bit me twice
Before he figured out who I am.

But the kids home had a nice Christmas.
And in spite of what happened, I'll still say
I'd be Santa Claus again next Christmas
For the good old PTA.

The PTA, the PTA,
I was Santa Claus at the schoolhouse for the good old PTA!

12/20/07