(To the tune of “Good King Wenceslas”)

Agent Pendergast looked out
His window at Dakota
When the snow lay all about
Pale as his own scrota
“How I hate the cold,” he hissed.
“What would be the harm
in taking leave of this foul mess
and going someplace warm?”

He invited dear Vincent
They boarded a cruise ship
Just a couple single gents
Avoiding winter's cruel nip
The ship sailed and Vincent paled
For he began to blow chunks
Pendy was consumed with guilt
And quickly packed their trunks.

He chartered a whirlybird
Performed a ship-air pick up
Vincent's fear was quite absurd
Dickens he did kick up
Twirled and kicked and screamed his way
From the deck to the bird
Pendergast was heard to say,
“Oh, Vincent, my word.”

Then the chopper dropped them off
In North Carolina
At their protests, the pilot scoffed,
“Nothing could be finer!
You don't want to see the snow
You want milder weather
This place here will do you fine
Stay with my friend Feather.”

They found Feather's humble site
Dark, and out in the sticks
They asked why she had no light
She lit all her wax wicks
Asked them if they'd like to dance
Trip the light fantastic
Vincent volunteered but he
Proved to be quite spastic.

Feather turned to Pendergast
“Hey, tall, pale, and handsome...
Let's have us a little blast.
You and I can dance some.
Tell your friend to take a nap
His strength it will enhance
Meanwhile I'll sit on your lap
That's a type of dance.”

Feather played a melody
The name of it was Unchained
Soon it was indelibly
Printed on his stunned brain
After that night Pendergast
Never feared the snow
He stayed so hot that it would melt
Wherever he would go.

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