Holiday Botchulits or Xmas in June

Familiar lines of holiday verse followed by anagrams of those lines and one-line wrap-ups.

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

I can’t wait here for dim Ms. Gish, Ma...
...'cuz she and that equally dim sister of hers dream only of a dusty Christmas, don't they...? 

Jingle bells, jingle bells.
Jill’s been selling LBJ gel.
“Thank you, Jillian, dear. The dry ol’ coot could surely use a little,” opines Lady Bird.

Once in royal David’s city

a very nosy old (CCII AD) nit…
…finally up ‘n’ died. (Centuries ago those OT types did live for donkey’s years, didn’t they...?)

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus.

Nick’s a slimy gin sot, Mama -- a wuss!
Thus I’m leaving home for good…right after the exchange of gifts and the airing of grievances.

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,

when Father’s big car met its host, he won the URL “Hugo’s Health.”
This year, apparently, Santa’s gifting every mother’s child exactly what it’s always wanted.

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.

In our “Dr. Loser Dept.,” he’d need her…
…‘her’ referring, of course, to Mrs. Claus, the former RN who’s long served in that capacity there at the Pole.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

I cannot spit on so fresh a green nut.
(In any case one would think that on Xmas Eve a body could find better things to do.)

Silver bells. Silver bells. It’s Christmas time in the city.

Still, the scary birthers’ cells I’m visitin’ smell best. I’ve…
…looked pretty thoroughly into this holiday sense obsession of mine but have yet to discover any plausible explanation. In the meantime, seasons’ greetings!