Bobby has a wife and baby son
Works at least ten hours a day
Raised on apple pie, God and guns
Calls it his American way

Worked his way up out at the Auto plant
Joined the union, made a good wage
Then the market fell and the stock went bad
They laid Bobby off one day
And all they heard him say was

How the hell we gonna pay for Christmas?

Work was scarce around that town
But God knows Bobby tried
They took his car and they took his house
Man, he was barely scrapin’ by

He started talkin’ ‘bout drastic things
How they pushed him to his breakin’ point
He robbed a store after a couple drinks
Asked him why, said he had no choice
Now who’s gonna buy the toys

How the hell we gonna pay for Christmas?

Break

Bet you’re all thinking this is fiction
But, in fact this story’s true
This really ain’t about Bobby so much
As it is about me and you

How the hell we gonna pay for Christmas?