'Twas the red light before Christmas and all through the cat-house, Not a hooker was stirring, not a whore or a frowse. The stockings were hung at the end of the beds, (Not that they ever adorned the girls' legs).
The call-girls were in bed - alone for a change, While visions of punters danced through their brains. The mistress was shagged out with blisters on knees, The last of her clients was a nuisance to please.
She'd turned off the red-light and in bed she had climbed, For a well-earned solo slumber before 'opening time'. When from the fireplace there came a great crash, And Santa appeared, covered in soot and cold ash.
He filled their fishnets with presents - vibrators, dildos, Potency lotions and red spiky stilettos. Suspender belts and lacy red garters, Filled each tart's stocking as he chortled with laughter.
Oh garter! Oh dildo! Oh lubricant jelly! Oh twelve inch vibrator - you'll make someone merry! Oh satins and silk!! Oh ribbons and laces - Sure to bring smiles to these prostitutes' faces!
He dug in his sack and found one present more, A brand new red light to affix 'bove the door. And with a wide smile at the slumbering doxies, He wished them good cheer and freedom from poxes.
