Now someone please tell me I am not the only human defect who confused the "Twelve Days of Christmas" as ENDING on Christmas. As it turns outs, only the partridge gets given on December 25th and the gift giving continues right on through to January 5th of the following year. Not only is this expensive, but the Christmas tree needles have already cannonballed their way to the carpet and the New Years' resolutions have gone up in smoke by that time. So, I am here to do what, oh, say, millions of other people before me have done, which is to dissect this song and figure out what all the excitement is about.
On the First Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: A partridge in a pear tree.
There are a few things wrong here. A wobbly, bulbous bird in a tree that couldn't survive the harsh winter to begin with is a gift? From my TRUE love? My TRUE love would provide me with cooked partridge with a nice pear glaze, substitute prime rib for partridge, and give me a little rub and tug under the covers. THAT is TRUE love. Damn bird. Another mouth to feed.
On the Second Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Two Turtle Doves
What on God's green earth is a turtle dove? Talk about your paradoxes. It's on par with a breakdancing sea sponge. Don't I already have a partridge? Now I have three birds all fighting for territory and waiting to poop in my morning cereal? Will there be mating involved? Because if there is, I'll have two for sale - cheap, the following day.
On the Third Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Three French Hens.
What is it with these damned birds? Was this song written by genetically-engineered super cows trying to get us to not eat beef? How will I know they were French? Would they have accents? Berets? Would a bill have been passed to call them "Freedom" Hens? Wait, it gets worse...
On the Fourth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Four Calling Birds.
Well, let's just open a bird sanctuary, why don't we. Should be called the 12 Days of Audubon Song. Do they call on little cell phones? Are they on a good calling plan? Should I wait until off-peak hours to answer them? Should I put them in a steel cage match with the partridge, doves and hens and let them have some sort of Battle Royale for the right to be my future dinner?
On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Five Golden Rings
I don't know bout you, but jewelry was never my strong suit, and unless you are a pimp, multiple Super Bowl winner, or mafioso, two rings should be your maximum - and one of those had better be a wedding ring. As for women? This is their favorite part of the song, that's why there's such the pause and emphasis on FIVE GOL-DEN RINNNNNNNGS!. Great. She gets gold and I get poultry.
On the Sixth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Six Geese a-Laying
At least someone is getting some action, but all that means is more freaking birds. At least I can get good market value for them. Omelets on the house.
On the Seventh Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Seven Swans a-Swimming
Good. Keep on swimming. Don't worry about the private hell my life has become with all these birds (and rings) multiplying with each day.
On the Eighth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Eight Maids a-milking.
For some reason, I just get this idea that Brigham Young himself wrote this part. If they're milking, they've just given birth, and with squawking birds and piles of golden rings towering over my head, eight is too many for me. If I was a caliph, maybe, but, I'm just a working-class idiot, and my seed bill has just taken a severe hit.
On the Ninth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Nine Ladies Dancing
Finally! A day for me! No birds, eggs, rings, milking ladies, just some good old-fashioned women dancing round that ol' brass pole. Is this the shortest day or does it just seem that way? Hell, I'll bring some of those Golden Rings to get me into the Champagne Room. Hey, plenty of Kev to go 'round!
On the Tenth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Ten Lords a-Leapin'
Um........um....... Between you and me? Leaping Lords, particularly of the British import, brings visions of limp-wristed theater actors and artists who have been knighted singing, "When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way..." with all kinds of pirouetting and frolicking.
On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Eleven Pipers Piping
Depends what they are smoking in those pipes. Then again, they could be pan-flutes and then I'd have to kill my entire menagerie in a homicidal rage while Zamfir covers Kenny G's "Songbird".
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Twelve Drummers Drumming.
Let me tell you something, after the birds, eggs, rings, new mothers, strippers, prancers, and assorted pipes, why not form my own drum circle? I can cover myself in bear grease, adopt the manners of a wild animal, howl at the moon and kill what I eat.
Think I'll start with the partridge.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
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5 comments:
Could not stop laughing. My kids think I've lost my mind. Absolutely one of your finest!!!
Merry "Leon", Kev.
I enjoyed your take on a perfectly annoying song.
Tooo funny... Merry Merry and Happy New Year!!!
Yeah, this one did a number on
me too..Laughed so hard no sound came out of my mouth, bout' pee'd
myself, and had to clear my throat and snuff my nose about a hundred times in the next 30 minutes to recover
any semblance of olfactory comfort. If this one EVER gets published with illustration, I CANNOT WAIT to see the four calling birds on tiny cell phones!
Thank you Kev for your wit, talent, and uncanny ability to make us all laugh, reflect, and see the world from an angle that most brains catch a glimpse of but never dwell on long enough to grasp and appreciate.Your writing just keeps getting better and better.
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