'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ring,
Not a wrestler was stirring, not even Sting;
The angles were planned out 9 weeks in advance,
In hopes TNA still garnered a chance;

The wrestlers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of payoffs danced in their heads,
But Vince Russo was here, pencil in lap,
Ready to write some more of his crap;

When out in the crowd there arose such a clatter,
Even Russo peeked out and said "Hey...whattsamatta?"
Away to the pencil he flew like a flash,
Tore open the book, here comes more of his trash;

He had "great" ideas , but none were alive,
He'd already killed them back in '95,
Then, what to his small, pea-like brain should appear,
But a miniature angle he'd used back 10 years;

We'd see it on Thursday, and we'd see it quick,
I think that I'm already getting real sick,
More rapid than A.J. his buddies they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name;

"Now Kevin! now Kurt! now Jeff and the rest,
On top or on bottom, I'll make it a mess,
To the top of the cage! to the urinal stall!
Now write away! write away! write away all!"

As Jim Cornette sits, he feels the disgrace,
He'd love to go dance on Vince Russo's face,
But "Kiss Of Death Russo" he knew what to do,
He'd smile in his face while applying the screw;

And then in a match that should bring down the roof,
Six referee bumps, heat is gone in a poof,Ă‚Â
Jim drew up his fist and was turning around,
Ready to put Vinny boy under ground;

Kazarian's chalky from his head to his to his foot,
And now Vince wants Sabin to wear food and soot!
A bundle of gimmicks he flung on his back,
Can't anyone see he's an overpaid hack?

His eyes, oh how beady, all squinty and flustered,
But shock and surprise was all he could muster,
Hey, he was champ once, he booked it himself!
Oh no, he's got Eric all dressed like an elf!

The stump of his pencil was tight in his teeth,
The clouds they encircled his head like a wreath,
A shifty face and a little beer belly,
He could be Jack Pfefer, but not quite as smelly;

Yes, we all thought that Pfefer had passed years ago,
But now we all swear he's right here in Russo,
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Makes Ray Stevens turn over and glad he is dead;

Let's take Joe and Angle, a dream feud to work,
And now it's all over, because of this jerk,
The ratings are poor and the buy rates are weak,
His writing puts even the strongest to sleep;

So, Carters, wake up! Don't you hear the whistle?
Stop feeding us all a menu of thistle,
And I heard him exclaim as he snuck out of sight,
"Hey, screw you all, I buried Santa last night"