Tuesday 27 December 2011

12 days after Christmas














On the first day after Christmas
my true love and I had a 
terrible, terrible argument and
she threw a variety of pots and
pans at me, so I strangled the
Partridge and burnt down the
pear tree that my true,
My true love gave to me.

Things didn’t get any better by
the end of the second day, when
she started throwing plates
at me like Boomerangs,
and so, in a vicious frenzy 
I took out an axe and stabbed the
two turtledoves that my true,
my true love gave to me.

On the 3rd and 4th days
my true love graduated
to throwing grendades
so I poisoned the three French Hens
and borrowed next-door’s cat
to say hello to the four calling birds
that my true,
my true love gave to me.


Things, believe it or not got worse
over the next few days
so I pawned off the five golden rings
and stamped on the eggs
of the six geese a laying
before shooting the seven swans swimming
that my true,
My true love gave to me.

By the time we reached the 8th day
our household had become
a battlefield with trenches
dug between the TV and Sofa
and I won’t mention
what I did to the eight maids a milking
that my true,
my true love gave to me.

I bunded up the nine ladies dancing
ten lords a leaping and
eleven pipers piping
in a large package
and posted them back
returning the special delivery 
that my true,
My true love gave to me.

The neighbours
only called the Police
on the 13th day
when the twelve drummers drumming
were found massacred on the frontlawn –
their drumsticks neatly arranged
on the grass, spelling out..

Well, it certainly wasn’t Happy Christmas. 



(NB. This is an work of fiction and does not reflect
the love I have for my other half) 

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