On this evening, which, to some, can come year after year
As it did to me ere my way of life fell into the sere
Must I drink to Bob Cratchit as Our Mob's Luckiest Jim?
Just coz Christ didn't dine on my Tiny Tim
Prince! To Waifs a-wassailing, Carolers demanding good cheer
Lend not an ear ; let their own rear suffice to buy them beer.