During the performance of the play, Chef is asked to sing, which reverts to his usual sexual innuendo.
I'm gonna lay you down by the Yule log
I'm gonna love you right
Baby, I'm gonna deck your halls
And silence your nights
You'll hear the herald angels sing
When I'm sliding off your bra
I just can't wait to jingle your bells
And falala your love...
We should make love, 'cause if we don't-