On the first day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Reminders of all the way I’ve failed.

On the second day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the third day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the fourth day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the fifth day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the sixth day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Gripes about my driving;
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the seventh day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Reproaches on my wardrobe;
Gripes about my driving;
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the eighth day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
A full-on jeremiad;
Reproaches on my wardrobe;
Gripes about my driving;
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the ninth day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Grumblings that I’m smelly;
A full-on jeremiad;
Reproaches on my wardrobe;
Gripes about my driving;
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the tenth day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Laments about her lost youth;
Grumblings that I’m smelly;
A full-on jeremiad;
Reproaches on my wardrobe;
Gripes about my driving;
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the eleventh day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
Guff about my hygiene;
Laments about her lost youth;
Grumblings that I’m smelly;
A full-on jeremiad;
Reproaches on my wardrobe;
Gripes about my driving;
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

On the twelfth day of Festivus, my true love gave to me:
A bedroom cold shoulder;
Guff about my hygiene;
Laments about her lost youth;
Grumblings that I’m smelly;
A full-on jeremiad;
Reproaches on my wardrobe;
Gripes about my driving;
Complaints about my cooking;
Shit about my spending;
A new nickname—Slob Boy;
A knock against my mother;
And reminders of all the ways I’ve failed.

A doggerel by Kevin Featherly.

Mr. Featherly would like to inform his audience that the preceding verses are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely inevitable, but beside the point.