I know that we all love and endure the song the 12 Days of Christmas. Fortunately for us there are those who care enough about such things to add us the cost for us. Each year you can find the PNC, Christmas Price Index calculated for you. Enjoy and then return for my own whimsy on the matter.
Another View
By Aramis Thorn
Christmas 1996
The partridge perched upon the pear to sing his cockle song,
And merrily proclaim the day to all the gathered throng.
“Bob-white” he called amidst the branches of the potted pear,
My true love had tied his leg, so he was stranded there.
“Bob-white” again he issued forth all throughout the eve
The first day of Christmas had my guests all fit to leave.
Morning smiled the second day, as I greeted my true love,
As in each hand there was perched a cooing turtledove.
“Their wings are clipped, they will not fly.” She cooed reassuringly,
So, she propped them with the Partridge in the potted tree.
“Bob-white, coo-coo. Bob-white, coo-coo” they called to and fro,
I spent most of Christmas day the second, seeking solitude in snow.
The noise had quelled on day three, and peace I thought I’d found,
‘Til from the breakfast pantry rose a murderous cackling sound.
Armed with broom, to the kitchen I rushed, to face the denizens,
Instead of monsters or cockatrice, I found three French hens.
My true love smiled so warmly as she presented them to me,
I took them in their cages, and placed them 'neath the pear tree.
Day four saw me besieged by “cackle, coo, bob-white,”
I surmised to roast them all, but my true love I would not spite.
As evening came, my calm returned and the wild life seemed to quiet,
Until my love presented me with a brand new form of riot.
For in choosing a fourth gift, she had hit on the absurd
In that she presented me with four squawking calling birds.
The fifth day hardened fright and fear with “bob-white, cackle, squawk, and coo.”
For I was intrepidly bemused at what my true love next would do.
The pear tree looked so burdened with its zoo of noisome birds,
Were she to add five to the flock of ten, I could not contain harsh words.
At dinnertime, she presented me with a box battered and old,
To my delight my true love gave to me, five SILENT rings of gold.
Optimism held me in its grasp as day six broke cold and snowing,
I gazed upon my golden rings, admiring silent warmth a-glowing,
Down to breakfast I trotted, to my true love, with triumph in my breast,
Only to find her in the kitchen, with six geese upon six nests.
I sat upon the kitchen hearth and dwelt on roasted geese,
To my horror I realized each had eggs, three or four apiece.
To the hot tub on the winter porch I went, to soak away day seven
The silence and the steamy bath promised to resemble heaven.
I’d just relaxed in the warm pool, when I was set upon,
By the paddling and pecking of seven swimming swans.
Enough I screamed of feather and foul, I don’t want flocking gifts,
“Very well.” My true love sadly said. The day ended in a tiff.
The eighth day of Christmas dawned with a fresh snow falling.
My true love woke me from my slumber by gently, sweetly calling.
She suggested that I quickly join her by the stable, near the shed,
With trust that no bird would brave the cold, I trundled out of bed.
What met me at our barn brought forth oaths and shrieks and vows,
For there upon eight stools sat eight maidens milking cows.
Day nine came, and I thought, my mind was coming loose,
But I was, at lunch, satiated by feasting on beef and goose.
Dinnertime tempted me to dine on both partridge and hen,
But the thoughts were interrupted by my true love once again.
The view within the parlor set my wits to madly prancing,
For my true love had hired nine ladies who were dancing.
Madness seized me on day ten, and I would not leave my room.
I met each cajoling of my love with bitterness and gloom.
Around eight in the evening time, a clamor filled the house,
Pushing me to investigate so I sneaked out like a mouse.
I perched upon the staircase and downward started creeping,
And was horrified to find the hall filled with ten lords a leaping.
I barely slept throughout the night amidst the noise of birds and cows,
I was glad my true love leaned toward the kosher, or I might have gotten sows.
Sunrise came early on day eleven, and I thought to sneak to town,
For no new terror-gift would I find, if I were not around.
But my true love laughed as she realized my victory she was swiping,
For in the driveway of the dawn, there were eleven pipers piping.
The Twelfth Day of Christmas had arrived with our house quite full,
But no one for a hundred miles could say that it was dull.
I’d grown accustomed to the noise, to dodging lords leaping, ladies dancing,
I’d even realized that dairy cows, my larder were enhancing.
My true love sat with me by the fire, holding my hand and humming,
As I tried to grow accustomed to twelve incessant drummers drumming.Day thirteen has come and gone, and fourteen was quite peaceful.
I realize now that my true love intended no malice, harm, or evil.
As peace and quiet reclaim my home and I see where I was wrong,
I'll transform my true love’s gift parade into a Christmas Song.
Many will sing of my adventure and never know its pains and ills,
I'll even leave out day 24: the arrival of, the postman with the bills.
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."
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