Lyrics

The "x" in Xmas is a substitute crucifix for Christ 

One, two, one, two, three, four
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays

Well, the powders reach you and the powders teach you
And when you find they can't reach you
There is no Christmas for John Quays

He thinks he is more interesting than the world
But buying cigs puts him in a whirl

A packet of three five fives
555 
A packet of those over there
And twenty special offer cigars
And twenty special offer cigars

Found talking to the cigarette machine
Into nicotinic acid
Good King Wenceslas looked out
Silly bugger, he fell out 

He spits in the sky
It falls in his eye
And then he gets to sit in
Talking to his kitten

And talking about Frankie Lymon 

Tell me why is it so?
Tell me why is it so?

Out of his face with The Idle Race 
Out of the room with this tune

Although the skins are thin
He knows it's up to him
To go out or stay in

Oh, I'll stay in
I'll stay in
I'll stay in
I'll stay in
I'll stay in

You, me, Xmas, Xmas

Well the powders reach you, and the powders teach you
And when you find that they can't reach you
There is no Christmas for John Quays

No girls
No curls
Just the traffic passing by
Bye bye bye bye bye bye bye
Bye bye bye 
Bye bye bye

One, two, three, four

No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays