It was Christmas eve babe in the warehouse
  Young Thomas said to Sam "i think we're nearly done"
  And then Jen sang a song and whipped us up a brew
  We gave our mugs to her and dreamed of bickies too

  Thought we're the lucky ones, our work is almost done
  There's a feeling that all will soon be through
  So happy Christmas, here comes the holiday
  It's a better time, when there's no more work to do

  They've got vans they've got cars, they've got bikes so i'm told
  But when i first phoned you, you put me on hold
  When i finally got through on that cold Christmas Eve
  You promised a taxi was waiting for me

  You maybe handsome, maybe pretty
  But on the phone you were shitty
  So i left you on hold
  Out there in the cold

  Your tone it was stinging
  And i bet that you're minging
  You can stand on the corner
  For the rest of the night
 

                        The City Sprint boys and Burgundy
                        Were singing "hip, hip, hooray
                        Thank f**k that we don't work on Christmas day"

                        You're a bum
                        You're a punk
                        Oh bog off you're drunk
                        I'd rather be in bed, so get out my headset

                        You scumbag, you maggot
                        Well that's it, i've had it
                        Taxi service my arse
                        I'll phone Speedy Cars

                       The City Sprint boys and Burgundy
                       Were singing "hip, hip, hooray
                       Thank f**k that we don't work on Christmas day"

                       Why did i call West One?
                       Could've called anyone
                       They took my details from me
                       When i first phoned them

                       We kept them with us babe
                       Recorded you having a moan
                       So that the next time you phone
                       We can completely ignore you