Christmas with Gramma

Gramma gave me a crack pipe
last year on Christmas Eve.
Then the policemen came,
and she had to leave.

But now she's gone to jail,
and I guess it's just as well,
'cause she made lousy cookies anyway.

Oh, a marijuana leaf
can't be your mistletoe,
and your lines of cocaine
aren't the same as snow.

But it's true I'll miss you dear
'cause you always brought the beer,
and your brownies took the pain away.

Oh Gramma, you know that I love you.
Oh Gramma, you know that it's true.
And if we raise the bail
we'll get you out of jail
and have you home by Christmas day.