No Xmas for John Quays

The X in Xmas is a substitute crucifix for Christ

A one, two

A one, two, three, four!

No Christmas for John Quays

No Christmas for John Quays

No Christmas for John Quays

No Christmas for John Quays

Well the powders reach you

And the powders teach you

But when you find that they can't reach you

There is no Christmas for junky

He thinks he is

More interesting

Than the world

Ah but buying cigs

Puts him in a whirl

I'll have a packet of three-five fives

Will you fucking put the monitors on for Christ's sake?

I'll have a packet of three-five fives

I'll have 20 of those over there

I'll have 20 No.6 for a headache

And I've had enough right there, stop

[?]

Good King Wenceslas last looked out

Silly bugger, he fell out

He spits in the sky

It falls in his eye

And then he gets to sitting

Talking to his kitten

Talking about Frankie Lymon

Tell me why is it so?

Tell me why is it so?

Out of his face with the Idle Race

Out of the room with this tune

Although the skins are thin

He knows it's up to him

To go out or stay in

Oh, I'll stay in

I'll stay in, I'll stay in, I'll stay in, I'll stay in

You, me

X-Mas

X-Mas

Well the powders reach you

And the powders teach you

But when you find they can't reach you

There is no Christmas for John Quays

No girls

No curls

Just the traffic passing by

Bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye

One, two, three, four

No Christmas for John Quays

No Christmas for John Quays

No Christmas for John Quays

No Christmas for John Quays