Visit from St. Dolcett

A VISIT FROM ST. DOLCETT

‘Twas a cannibal Christmas, and all through the hut The whole family dined on a recent “guest’s” butt Her stockings were hung by the stewpot with care For the legs that were in them still simmered in there

The children were nestled all snug in their places The fat from her boobs was still smeared on their faces For Mama with her hatchet, and I with my axe Had split her in two with a couple of hacks

When out in the village there arose such a ruckus I half dropped my fork, with the last of her tuchis I jumped to the window to survey the din And opened the drapes (made of stewardess skin)

The moon’s sharp reflection shone bright as I looked At the pot in which girls from the Peace Corps had cooked And there, through the embers and smoke, I espied The eight ravenous wolves, tethered fast by a guide

His eyes burned like coal, and they posed such a threat That I knew in a moment it must be Dolcett! The wolves bayed and howled as they headed my way And behind, on a sledge, this I heard the man say:

“Now, Slasher! Now, Hanger! Now, Knifer and Nailer! On, Roaster! On, Ripper! On, Gut and Impaler! To the fattening pens, to the barbecue pit, Now, spit away! Spit away! Spit away! Spit!”

As the smoke from a chimney will rise with elan From a stove where a cheerleader roasts in a pan So, up to the thatch on my hut they all flew All the babe-eating beasts, and my bud, Dolcett, too

And shortly I heard them set down on the straw And an audible growl from each animal’s maw As I closed the “skin” drapes and I turned toward my cot Down the chimney he came, barely missing the pot

He was dressed all in black from his boots to his cap And he carried a sack, which he struck with a slap It quivered and moaned; like a hunter with game He unloaded the bag, and out spilled a nude dame

Her jugs, how they jiggled! her thighs, soft and chewy! Her buttocks were tender, her eyes wide and dewy Her cute little mouth had an apple jammed in And her navel, a rich, robust cherry within

Her arms and her legs had been bound fast and tight By a network of ropes, so she would not take flight Her thighs were so thick, and her belly so round I’d be calorie counting with each bite I downed

She was juicy and sweet—a quite succulent catch And I drooled as I planned for her trip down the hatch As she shook her blonde mane, through her apple she’d whine And I thought with what pleasure we all soon would dine

The man dressed in black had not uttered word one He left sauces and spice; but, before he was done One last gift was bestowed ere my flue he’d ascend— ‘Twas a long, steel pole that was sharp on each end

As I scooped up the blonde to prepare for the feast Overhead flew the sledge and the wolves to the east And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight “Merry Christmas to all—I’ll be back for a bite!”