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I'm Not Santa Claus
I get really upset and frustrated this time of the year.
Children think I/'/m Santa Claus with eight reindeers.
Kids think that I/'/m Santa because I/'/m fat and have a beard that/'/s long and white.
They don/'/t believe me when I say I won/'/t come to their homes on Christmas night.
When I/'/m at restaurants, children constantly sit on my lap.
I tell them to take a hike and their mothers give me a slap.
Kids ask me how many elves are working at the North Pole.
They tug on my beard and some even lose bladder control.
I/'/m getting really sick and tired of this happening to me.
I smell really bad because kids soil my clothes with their pee.
I tell kids over and over that I/'/m not Santa but they never buy it.
Because I/'/m fat, a smart aleck little boy told me to go on a diet.
I couldn/'/t be Santa Claus even if I wanted to because I/'/m afraid of heights.
I can/'/t convince the little brats that I won/'/t be showing up on Christmas night.
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