The last day of x …

I can hardly believe it’s the last day
as twelve drummers drum-away. 
I can barely move
for all this copper piping
being tripped over 
by ten lords-a-leaping.
And as for ladies
nine dancing is plenty
but with eight milkmaids
it’s nearly twenty. 
My bath overflows 
with seven swans swimming,
my airing cupboard, what a hoot!
With goslings brimming
I fiddle nervously 
with my five gold rings
as I count the new Colly Birds
each day brings. 
The French Hens
who started this mess
and the turtle doves
with each lunch makes one less.
Not to mention my true love who gave to me
a partridge in a pear tree. 


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