(What really happened on the twelve days of Christmas)

Partridge in a pear tree...
The postperson delivered a bird in a tree.
How thoughtful of her to be thinking of me.

Two turtle doves...
How tender, how sweet, she sent two turtle doves.
It's all so romantic, I think I'm in love.

Three French Hens...
More birds. Oh my goodness. I've just added three.
But what will I do with six birds and a tree?

Four Calling Birds...
I've birds on the couch, on the chair, on my bed.
They're always so hungry, I can't keep them fed.
The phone keeps on ringing, the whole town's upset.
So stop with these birds, or they may lynch me yet.

Five Golden Rings...
Now normally five golden rings would be great.
For now, it is best that our romance should wait.
It's straight to the pawnshop the money I need,
For earplugs, a lawyer, and lots of birdseed.

Six Geese-A-Laying...
You've got to be kidding. Six geese at the door!
There's bird poop and feathers all over the floor.
These geese are just huge, and this room is a sight.
Oh, what will I do? This is just the sixth night!

Seven Swans-A-Swimming...
There's no place to swim for the poor seven swans.
There's six in the bathtub and one on the john.
That's twenty-three birds, and they fly here and there.
And something disgusting just dropped in my hair.

Eight Maids-A-Milking...
The eight maids-a-milking, they brought their own cows.
It's just so chaotic to be in this house.
The cattle keep mooing, the doves won't stop cooing,
The birds I am shooing, and all of them pooing.
The mess is so deep, it is up to my knees.
This place is a zoo. No more animals, please!

Nine Pipers Playing...
The nine pipers playing have frightened the birds.
The cows then stampeded, the maids have been hurt.
The milk all got spilled, and it smells really bad.
It's one lousy Christmas. The worst that I've had.

Ten Ladies Dancing...
The ladies aren't dancing. They're slipping and sliding.
The maids are upset, and the pipers are fighting.
The poor little pear tree has met its demise.
It's crushed into kindling. Is that a surprise?

Eleven Lords-A-Leaping...
Oh, they're leaping all right, from one mess to the next.
Conditions in here, well, they're not the best.
The feathers are flying, the maids won't stop crying,
The dancers keep trying, and I am not lying.
It just couldn't get any worse, I am sure.
Is that someone knocking I hear at my door?

Twelve Fiddlers Fiddling...
The twelve fiddlers fiddled. I broke down and cried.
The neighbors were staging a protest outside.
I saw a few shotguns, though not hunting season.
Perhaps the aroma has clouded their reason.
I opened the door and then trouble ensued.
The maids tumbled out, then the dancers pursued.
The fiddlers just couldn't get out of the way.
I know the ground shook, nearly four miles away.
The pipers came next, as they ran for their lives.
Is that a policeman who's standing outside?
The birds came out next flying straight at the crowd.
The ten leaping lords started yelling out loud.
And last, but not least, came the cows kicking pails.
I think there's a chance that I might go to jail.
So next year for Christmas, I'm beggin him please,
Leave only one present down under my tree.

This poem's from me and be of good cheer.
Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.