Hymn to the Festivus Pole

I watch the snow flakes fall and turn the meadows white with the magic of the holidays.

Anticipating all the guests who’ll toast the spite that we’ll share around the Festivus pole.

You know where you can shove that fancy fruitcake now.

Just leave room for that Festivus pole.

As I think of Frank Costanza, I’ll sing another stanza of this hymn to the Festivus pole.

We take this time to air old grievances long held and our disappointment with our friends.

Accusing one and all of let downs great and small, hurling insults while we eat and drink.

You know where you can shove that burning lump of coal.

Just leave room for that Festivus pole.

As I think of Frank Costanza, I’ll sing another stanza of this hymn to the Festivus pole.

You say you can explain the miracles we see? Well it’s Festivus and we don’t care.

So pack your logic up, and put it all away. Bite your tongue and chase your doubts away.

You know where you can shove those scented oils and gloves.

Just leave room for that Festivus pole.

As I think of Frank Costanza, I’ll sing another stanza of this hymn to the Festivus pole.

The host will challenge all to a wrestling match to end this our Festivus holiday.

Our feats of strength will show just how long we can endure all the bitterness, complaints and rage.

You know where you can shove those brand new underwear.

Just leave room for that Festivus pole.

As I think of Frank Costanza, I’ll sing another stanza of this hymn to the Festivus pole.