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The Twelve Nays of Christmas By Mary Grace Dembeck Email: MaryMary3 at aol dot com (above email address formatted to reduce spam) January 3, 2008 I got some presents from my Love That I'd like to return, Some have given me headaches, And some gave me hearburn. The Partridge won't fit in the fridge, I've tried, but it's too plucky, The Turtle Doves just bill and coo 'Til I'm almost upchucky. The three French Hens zay parley vous But I can't compre-hen them, The Colly Birds are so coo coo, I think someone should pen them, The Five Gold Rings have all turned green, The Six Geese keep on laying, The Seven Swans have turned ugly, The Eight Maids all keep straying — (And they partied the whole night), The Nine Drummers keep banging, The Pipers give me such pipe dreams, 'Cause all their pipes keep clanging, The 'Leven Ladies, like the Maids Are very hard to keep Track of. And the Dozen Lords Keep leaping in my sleep, So, I'm returning all of them, Don't tell my True Love, he's Quite sensitive (and pssst ... besides, He thinks I'm ... hard to ... please.) About the author: In spite of what (millions of) others say, I still insist I'm a poet. | | | |
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