One Too Many Christmases
ONE TOO MANY CHRISTMASES
© Krista Detor, The Silver Wood: Wintersongs

Well, there are one too many minutes on the clock up on the wall
There are one too many minutes waiting for someone to call
And I have one too many Christmases
With nothing much at all
And I have you … but we are through

There are one too many TV shows that start and end with cars
There are one too many telephones at one too many bars
And I have one too many photographs
Of things you said were ours
And I have you … but we are through

So take your one too many I-love-you’s
And your one too many honeydos
And your favorite Christmas poster of the girls who sell the beer
Take your light-up Rudolph Reindeer nose
And your Dukes of Hazzard videos
And take your Yuletide ass right out of here
There are one too many bill collectors calling me on Sunday
There are one too many lists of all the things you’ll do on Monday
And I have one too many charges made to 1-900-HONEY
And I have you … but we are through

So take your one too many I-love-you’s
And your one too many honeydos
And your favorite Christmas poster of the girls who sell the beer
And take your Santa underwear
That barely fit your derrière
And take your Yuletide ass right out of here

Well, maybe you had one too many
That might it explain it, goodness knows
Yeah, you had one too many, slipped on the ice and broke your nose
Couldn’t buy my Christmas present cause all the liquor stores were clo---ho-ho-hosed

There’ve been one too many fabrications
One too many lost vacations
One too many holidays, one too many lonely celebrations
One too many IOUs for future presents I could choose
At one too many hardware stores
Got nothing but these Christmas Blues

I’d settle for about any guy who’d keep a job and not ask why
Who’d show up more than once a week to get his laundry done
And I would settle for about any man
Who’d mow the lawn and lend a hand
And fill my Christmas stocking instead of leaving me with none
So take your one too many I-love-you’s
And your one too many honeydos
And your favorite Christmas poster of the girls who sell the beer
Take your drunken mistletoes and your anniversary garden hose
And take your Yuletide ass right out of here

That’s what I said, Bubba —
Take your Yuletide ass right out of here

Hit the road, Kris Pringles
Take your Yuletide ass right out of here!