I had a man at Christmas who,
Was just too romantic,
I prayed the season would end soon,
I was getting frantic.
Although I must admit to you,
I was also amazed,
Same as the song, the gifts he gave,
On each of the 12 days.
(Although whether there are 12 days,
I don’t really believe,
And often only can count 2,
Those Christmas Day and Eve.)
I tried hard to control my tongue,
But soon I was reeling,
I had to let my anger out,
The hell with his feelings.
“After all this time you should know,
I’m just not a farm gal,
So take the doves, the hens, the geese,
The fowl is smelling fowl!
This partridge looks suspiciously,
Like a pigeon to me,
But either way it seems he shat,
All over the pear tree.
Ladies dancing, maids a milking,
Looks like you did recruit,
The members of the Spice Girls and,
Their entire dance troop.
The lords never will stop leaping,
Although I do suppose,
They are quite eloquently groomed,
And have great taste in clothes.
The pipers they pipe gleefully,
Which could be a delight,
If they played something other than,
Those drummers drumming, there’s a gift,
That I could understand,
Until I found all 12 of them,
Already quit my band.
But those golden rings I will keep,
From my Christmas Cupid,
I may be a bit of a grinch,
But mama ain’t stupid!”
And as for my poor old boyfriend,
And what happened to him,
Well you might say that my tirade,
Ended in a win win.
I told him what I thought and he,
Didn’t run off weeping,
But with 2 milk maids on each arm,
And three lords a leaping.