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)