To the tune of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”:

Chaz Bono got turned into a man, dear.

Dancin’ with a woman on TV.

You might say there’s no such thing as Santa

Till you see what Chaz got ‘neath his tree.

Chastity was once a cute girl

On her parents’ TV show.

Then she stunned the whole dang nation,

When she said her girl parts had to go.

Now transgenders in the Bay State

Have a law that’s etched in black.

It says they can change their gender.

Then if they want, they can change it back.

(chorus)

Chaz Bono got turned into a man, dear.

Cher don’t care but Sonny, he would grieve.

Now in Mass., some guy who’s born as Adam

Can change his moniker to Christmas Eve.

To the tune of “Up on the Housetop”:

Down where the Pats play, Steve Wynn paused,

Trying to skirt Foxb’ro’s laws.

He’ll win over the girls and boys,

All for the gamblers’ Christmas joys.

Casinos, what do you know?

Casinos, who wouldn’t go?

You know you’d take that Foxb’ro trip

To win the slots and blackjack chips.

To the tune of “O Little Town of Bethlehem”:

O little town of Groton, Mass.,

There’s more there than meets the eye.

The cost is steep, it sure ain’t cheap,

To see your good name die.

A worker made moonshineth

Then there’s Mark Haddad’s plight.

The town it bears the wears and tears.

Neither one is contrite.

(second verse)

O residents of Groton, Mass., defend your town, we pray,

From Haddad’s sin, makers of gin, and surely make them pay.

These two men are no angels, make Groton look unwell.

Listen to us, put them on bus,

And break this cursed spell.

To the tune of “Away in a Manger”:

Mitt Romney’s a Ken doll who’s lacking street cred.

Newt Gingrich, thrice married, put his bid to bed.

Ron Paul’s just too loony. John Huntsman? No way.

As for Rick Santorum, go back to P-A.

(second verse)

Perry should be going, and Bachmann’s a flake,

And Herman Cain, as we know, is on the make.

GOP, what gives here? Please don’t make us cry.

Don’t give Sarah Palin a reason to try.

To the tune of “Let It Snow”:

The election this year was frightful,

For a mayor who was spiteful.

Voters said Jim Milinazzo

Had to go, had to go, had to go.

(second verse)

To the mayor’s seat, no one’s coppin’.

And some counc’lors are flip-floppin’.

Is this Elliott’s rodeo?

We don’t know, we don’t know, we don’t know.

Chorus

Patrick Murphy says he will fight.

Others think he just might have the form.

Rodney thinks it’s his given right

For having weathered the storm.

(third verse)

Well, one of them will be cryin’,

While the other will be flyin’.

Should Kennedy have a go?

Just say no! Just say no! Just say no!

To the tune of “The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)”:

Dennis Piendak wanted to retire. Bob Cox and Joe DiRocco

Had other plans and so they took a flier

That Dennis didn’t want to go.

Everybody knows his pension has just got to grow,

Two more years, high as a kite.

Like robots, they just said, “Here you go,”

And pushed his sal’ry out of sight.

They won’t let Piendak get away.

They’ve loaded him up with some goodies so he’ll stay.

It’s up to voters now to rectify

A board that couldn’t bear to kiss him goodbye.

So as for Piendak, two more years he’ll stay.

Selectmen have less work to do.

And then they found 16,000 more ways to say

Merry Christmas to you.

To the tune of “Must Be Santa”:

Whose long career was anti-right?

Barney’s long career was anti-right.

Who’s giving up without a fight?

Barney’s giving up without a fight.

Anti-right, he won’t fight.

Must be Barney, must be Barney,

Must be Barney, Barney Frank.

(second verse)

Who’s known for wearing sloppy threads?

Barney’s known for wearing sloppy threads.

Whose district is now torn to shreds?

Barney’s district is now torn to shreds.

Sloppy threads, torn to shreds.

Anti-right, he won’t fight.

Must be Barney, must be Barney,

Must be Barney, Barney Frank.

(third verse)

Who kept his rivals on their toes?

Barney kept his rivals on their toes.

Who had some jolly ho-ho-hos?

Barney had some jolly ho-ho-hos.

Ho-ho-hos, on their toes.

Sloppy threads, torn to shreds.

Anti-right, he won’t fight.

Must be Barney, must be Barney,

Must be Barney, Barney Frank.

To the tune of “Over the River and Through the Woods”:

Over the ocean and through the ‘hoods

Of foreign nations he goes.

Deval Patrick’s way to avoid the fray

And still smell like a rose.

(second verse)

Fail to deliver, then write a book,

Campaigning for my bro.

‘Cause I, you know, don’t need the dough

This governor thing can go.

To the tune of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”:

We wish Tim a Murray Christmas.

But some things we just can’t dismiss.

We don’t like to upset his bliss.

But this wasn’t his year.

His car took a spin; friends with McLaughlin.

We wish we could simply skip this,

But it wasn’t his year.

(second verse)

We wish Tim a Murray Christmas.

We hope he will pardon this diss

But now this is on our wish list:

Will you learn how to steer?

To the tune of “Silver Bells”:

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks,

Occupiers defile.

They don’t care ’cause they’re feeling so listless.

Police staffing, people passing.

Occupiers smell vile.

And if you walk right past them, you’ll fear

Stinky smells, stench from hell.

Man, that aroma ain’t pretty.

Revolting. Can’t they bring

Soap to make stench go away?

(second verse)

Most aren’t too bright. Some are downright

Idiotic and mean.

Occupiers push on with displeasure.

I have a hunch that they would punch

Santa if he was seen.

And if you do not hustle, you’ll fear

Stinky smells, fainting spells

Their B.O. smells pretty … crappy.

Disgusting, nostrils sting.

My advice: On Christmas, bathe.

Dan Phelps’ email address is dphelps@lowellsun.com. Follow his blog at lowellsun.com and check him out on Facebook.