(Imagine singing it to the tune of the song
when you have come to the twelfth day)
On the twelfth day of Christmas my husband gave to me:
twelve plates a' piling. . .
eleven notions riling. . .
ten new things for cleaning. . .
nine remarks, no meaning. . .
eight shirts for drying. . .
seven eggs for frying. . .
six socks with no mates. . .
FIVE CANCELLED DATES
four less holidays. . .
three migraines. . .
two kids arguing. . .
and a bathtub with a black ring!
By Andrea Dietrich For PD's 12 Days of X-Mass Poetry Contest