YouTube has 2 versions, by Yogi Yorgesson and Stan Boreson. Here's my transcription from the former:


I WAS SANTA CLAUS AT THE SCHOOL HOUSE (FOR THE P.T.A.)
As sung by Yogi Yorgesson (Harry Stewart)

CHORUS: The P.T.A., the P.T.A.,
I was Santy Claus at the schoolhouse for the P.T.A.

1. The parent-teachers group they called a meeting.
My wife she says, "You have to go, my dear.
It's the big important Christmas party meeting
When all the papas who ain't sick appear."

2. I dozed off till the middle of the meeting,
When the chairman shouted out so all could hear:
"Mrs. Yorgesson says that her jolly husband
He will gladly be our Santy Claus this year."

3. The other papas looked relieved and happy.
They knew I'd been betrayed by my sweet wife,
And I was weak like that strong feller Swanson
When Delilah cut his hair off with a knife.

CHORUS

SPOKEN: On the night of the party, I sneaked into the school.
    The committee they all met me there.
These giggling women were going to dress me
    and glue on my whiskers and hair.
I got into them big red pants and black boots.
    The jacket was seven feet wide,
When I got into it, there was still plenty room
    for one good-size reindeer to hide.
Then I walked into the school gymnasium.
    The plan was that each little tyke
Would walk up and shake hands with old Santy,
    and tell me what presents they like.
The first kid was little Dagmar Larson,
    who wanted a new kiddy car.
She patted my face with her fat little hand,
    which was half full of warm chocolate bar.
The next kid in line was the young Scarbo boy.
    I think that his first name is Milo.
He's the orneriest brat in the whole darn school,
    and he's built just like a brick silo.
"Last year," he says, "you promised
    to bring me a real sharp sword and a gun,
And all that you brought was new shoes and a coat,
    you dirty old son-of-a-gun."
Then he jabbed his finger right in my eye,
    and I let out a heck of a groan,
And when he kicked my shin with his brass-toed shoe,
    I was sure that he'd broken the bone.
Then old man Guttormson picked his granddaughter up
    and when he put her down on my lap,
His lighted cigar set my whiskers on fire.
    They started to crackle and snap.
I jumped up and made a run for the door
    as fast as my sore leg would go,
And I put out the fire in a snow bank
    and cooled off my face in the snow.
I didn't dare go back, so I hurried on home
    and closed my front door with a slam,
And in my own home, my dog bit me twice,
    before he figured out who I am.
But the kids all had a nice Christmas,
    and in spite of what happened, I'll still say,
I'd be Santy Claus again next Christmas,
    for the good old P.T.A.

CHORUS