He sneaks in the night,
and grinds upon the gristle of your bones -
in a cloak woven from the finest skin,
from the chimney he descends and creeps through your homes.

For old Saint Nick
is the propaganda before the fear,
his legend created to cover
the sick evil that manifests itself into cheer.

What's that thumping on your roof?
Trust me, it ain't no reindeer or adorable little elf -
before you can scream the world's black before you;
just another stolen skull upon his shelf.

For Krampus is one nasty wicked little devil -
so lock your windows, barricade the doors;
with a magic key he enters
his shadow bleeding blood into the snow-dusted floors...

lice jittering in the fur beneath his mangey pits,
and eldritch horns jutting from his head
he's a carnivore of the festive spirit;
his hunger and blood-thirst never truly fed.

And upon the Eve of this coming Christmas
he's got an exciting new trick -

for once he's gonna spare all the naughty children,

and instead devour our beloved old Saint Nick...