A Christmas country song: 'Minceman's On His Way'

A 1950s country song about the Krampus-like spirit of mince pies, The Minceman. Full song available on Bandcamp: https://greigjohnson.bandcamp.com/track/mincemans-on-his-way . Scroll down for the lyrics, and Merry Christmas to all who celebrate. I have a lot of people to thank on this one; John Allison (body actor), Benjamin Partridge (sound improver), Sean Reynard (video advisor), Ash Johnson (guitar player and screen actor), Dan Webster (trumpet wielder), uncle Mikey (cowboy hat lender), all my brilliant Patrons of course, and – beyond all others as ever – Kristyna Baczynski (illustrator, dancer, actor and full-time dream supporter).

PATREON — https://www.patreon.com/GreigJohnsonMaking

LYRICS:
Hip hip / Hooray / Here comes the pastry sleigh
Stamping, steaming, scratching, screaming
Minceman's on his way.
Knock knock / Who's there? / Lil rascals best beware
of that Christmas sprite who's full of spite,
mixed peel and human hair.

He’s not an elf, he’s a monster
and he squawks a squelchy refrain
He can talk in words when he wants ta
But only understands Christmas and pain.

Don't hide / Don't run / That just makes it more fun.
He hates naughty kids. He hates nice kids.
He hates everyone.

He's collecting teeth for some reason
We don’t know why he wants teeth
It's the mystery of the season
We don’t know why he wants teeth

Lie still / Play dead / Don't let him in your head
Clear your thoughts of everything
but fear and gingerbread.
It's time (what, now?) / Hold tight (Oh wow!)
So much for silent night
Smells real sweet, like rotten meat,
Guess Minceman's right outside.

He’s making a list / Written in blood
Making that list, then a'ripping it up
His sweet tooth's sharp as a rusty pin
He can taste your thoughts, he can hear your skin
You can offer him a little piece of pumpkin pie
But whatever you do, don’t invite him inside.
But if he does get inside, never look in his eyes
Cos if it's after midnight, he can read your mind
He'll fight your dad and he'll scare your mum
He'll break your spirit and he'll bite your bum
He'll sniff your fingers and lick your eyes
Then soil your bed with a red surprise
And then hide in your mattress till you think he’s gone
And whisper bad nothings till your dreams are wrong.
You're gonna need some holy water and an axe tonight
Unless you leave him Drambuie and some Turkish Delight.
REMEMBER: Rub a rutabaga on your firstborn son
Put black candle wax on your ears and thumbs
Place a picture of your face in a filthy sock
Scratch an X on the back of any cuckoo clocks
Always hide your calculators and your watches too
Numbers only make him angry; he attacks when confused.
He's eternally cursed with a terrible need
Loves to be loved, but he hates being seen.

Gee whiz (Gee whiz!)/ Oh wow (Hot dog!)/
Don't pout, don't fuss, don't frown
You better not smile. You better not sleep
cos Minceman's coming to town.
Hip hip / Hooray / There goes the pastry sleigh
Stamping, steaming, scratching, screaming
Minceman's on his way.

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Thanks for watching.