T'was a week before Christmas, and all through the mall,
I searched for a gown for the Yuletide Ball.
The crowds were oppresive, and surly, and mean
As the Muzak blared 'O Holy Night' o'er the scene.

I had just bought my last gift for giving, with glee
because now it was time to find something for me!
The shops were all full of the best Christmas chic,
but in sizes too small for my manly physique.
I rummaged in vain throught the oversize rack
resigning my self to a muumuu or sack;

When out in the mall there arose such a clatter,
I just knew that I had to see what was the matter.
I flew out past the snooty clerks, into the crowd,
And pushed through the humanity standing around:

The Salvation Army brass band's 'Silent Night'
Cast a strange surreality over the sight.
When where did my wandering eyes finally stop
But on a cart full of packages, piled over the top,
Pushed by a little old man, so portly and thick,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.

His beard was snow white, though his skin a bit blotchy,
He was wearing a cute little dress by Versace.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
with just the right shade of lipstick, above and below.
His jewellery was perfect, his eye makeup flawless
and it seemed quite apparent ol' Santa went braless.

He was chubby and plump, the old crossdressing elf,
And I laughed at the sight -- though I'd been there myself.
"Well, THERE you are!" he pushed toward me in haste,
"We've got much to do and there's no time to waste!
"Shops to browse! Gowns to try! Shoes to find! Crowds to beat!
"And these goddamn high heels are just KILLING my feet!"

His gaze took me in from my head to my toes,
He tugged at his beard as he wrinkled his nose.
"Concealer! Foundation! You'll need quite a lot!
"Loose powder to seal it! And don't miss a spot!
"Eyeliner! Eyeshadow! Two shades, blended gently!"
I was getting a make-over first, evidently.
A wink of his eye, with it's mascara'd lash,
Soon gave me to hope that I'd brought enough cash.

He spoke not a word but he turned on his heel,
And he plowed his full cart through the crowd on two wheels.
He knew quite instinctively which route to take,
Though he left a good many raised fists in his wake.
I pursued best I could, but when our chase was ended
A lot of those fists had middle fingers extended.

We hit all the dress shops, the most exclusive boutiques,
who normally look at us guys like we're freaks.
But ol' Saint Nick's magic somehow realized this,
Now their lovliest gowns came in both of our sizes!
From dress shop to shoe store we proceded apace
For a man's size eleven stiletto, with lace!

At last as we dragged ourselves out of the mall,
and imagined how I'd knock 'em dead at the Ball,
I heard him exclaim as I hugged the old elf,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AT BIG CLOSET TOP SHELF!"