Collection saisonnière

Je ne suis pas ce que vous croyez

Vous venez de trouver un petit cadeau surprise à glisser dans votre prochaine commande !

Aucun rapport avec les photos… je vous laisserai le découvrir en ouvrant le paquet.

En espérant que l’intention vous fasse plaisir !

There were objects so peculiar
They were not to be believed
All around, things to tantalize my brain

It’s a world unlike anything I’ve ever seen
And as hard as I try
I can’t seem to describe
Like a most improbable dream

But you must believe when I tell you this
It’s as real as my skull, and it does exist

Here, let me show you
This is a thing called a present
The whole thing starts with a box

A box?
Is it steel?
Are there locks?
Is it filled with a pox?
A pox, how delightful, a pox

If you please…
Just a box with bright-colored paper
And the whole thing’s topped with a bow

A bow?
But why?
How ugly!
What’s in it?
What’s in it?

That’s the point of the thing, not to know

It’s a bat
Will it bend?
It’s a rat
Will it break?
Perhaps it’s the head that I found in the lake?

Listen now, you don’t understand
That’s not the point of Christmas Land

Now, pay attention
We pick up an over-sized sock
And hang it like this on the wall

0.00€

Rupture de stock

Paiement en ligne sécurisé

Oh, yes! Does it still have a foot?
Let me see, let me look
Is it rotted and covered with gook?

Um, let me explain
There’s no foot inside, but there’s candy
Or sometimes it’s filled with small toys

Small toys?
Do they bite?
Do they snap?
Or explode in a sack?
Or perhaps they just spring out
And scare girls and boys

What a splendid idea!
This Christmas sounds fun
I fully endorse it
Let’s try it at once

Everyone, please now, not so fast
There’s something here that you don’t quite grasp
Well, I may as well give them what they want

And the best, I must confess, I have saved for the last
For the ruler of this Christmas Land
Is a fearsome king with a deep, mighty voice
Least that’s what I’ve come to understand

And I’ve also heard it told
That he’s something to behold
Like a lobster, huge and red
And he sets out to slay with his rain gear on
Carting bulging sacks with his big, great arms
That is, so I’ve heard it said

And on a dark, cold night
Under full moonlight
He flies into a fog
Like a vulture in the sky
And they call him Sandy Claws

Well, at least they’re excited
But they don’t understand
That special kind of feeling in Christmas Land
Oh, well