I WON'T BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
words and music
copyright © 2005 by
Roy Zimmerman
copyright © 2005 by
Roy Zimmerman
Hey folks, how ‘bout that band? Are we lucky they got pinned down by mortar fire, or what? Really fellas, my leg’s off to you. And what a night, huh? Christmas Eve in Tikrit. Lit up like a Macy’s window. And that’s just me.
And we’re lucky tonight to have a crooner in the crowd. Johnny, why don’t you come up here? You know who I’m talking about, folks. Come on, let’s make him feel welcome. Come on! Folks, I give you Johnny.
Thank you, Skippy.
I won’t be home for Christmas
Don’t set a place for me
Have my share of good times there
While I’m across the sea
If you should pray at midnight
Pray for my soul to keep
I’d dream of you on Christmas
But I’m a afraid to fall asleep
You know, if I was home, I’d have the love of a good woman. And who needs that when you’ve got the adoration of a grateful Iraqi people? I’d be with my little baby daughter. But her mom told her not to talk to strangers.
I’d be with all the people I love. My recruiter - he drives a Hummer too. My senator - he’s got a son my age he just bailed out of a DUI ‘cause Freedom isn’t free. And my mom. I can see her answering the door, and the guy says, “Ma’am, I’m happy to report we saved your tax cut. Here’s a thousand dollars and shoe box with your boy in it.”
No, I’m glad to be here, defeating Osama bin Laden. Osama bin Laden - he’s the guy who...ah, never mind. So this one goes out to all those balding billionaires in that neocon think tank who love me. Thank God they never served in the military, or I wouldn’t be here tonight.
And if I should die, and the Devil is standing there with his clipboard, he’s gonna say, “You spent Christmas in Tikrit? I can’t beat that. Get the hell out of here.”
I’d dream of you on Christmas
But I’m a afraid to fall asleep
And we’re lucky tonight to have a crooner in the crowd. Johnny, why don’t you come up here? You know who I’m talking about, folks. Come on, let’s make him feel welcome. Come on! Folks, I give you Johnny.
Thank you, Skippy.
I won’t be home for Christmas
Don’t set a place for me
Have my share of good times there
While I’m across the sea
If you should pray at midnight
Pray for my soul to keep
I’d dream of you on Christmas
But I’m a afraid to fall asleep
You know, if I was home, I’d have the love of a good woman. And who needs that when you’ve got the adoration of a grateful Iraqi people? I’d be with my little baby daughter. But her mom told her not to talk to strangers.
I’d be with all the people I love. My recruiter - he drives a Hummer too. My senator - he’s got a son my age he just bailed out of a DUI ‘cause Freedom isn’t free. And my mom. I can see her answering the door, and the guy says, “Ma’am, I’m happy to report we saved your tax cut. Here’s a thousand dollars and shoe box with your boy in it.”
No, I’m glad to be here, defeating Osama bin Laden. Osama bin Laden - he’s the guy who...ah, never mind. So this one goes out to all those balding billionaires in that neocon think tank who love me. Thank God they never served in the military, or I wouldn’t be here tonight.
And if I should die, and the Devil is standing there with his clipboard, he’s gonna say, “You spent Christmas in Tikrit? I can’t beat that. Get the hell out of here.”
I’d dream of you on Christmas
But I’m a afraid to fall asleep
