I've come up with fates for the twelve things of Christmas; it happened three days later. Careful, some of it's pretty porny!

On the first day after Christmas my pear tree died;
The partridge and the turtle doves gave loud cries.
The three French hens got cooked in a stew,
And the four calling birds made babies--it's true.

On the second day after Christmas, the five golden rings
Got used by all but one laying goose as horny bling,
And the seven swans a-swimming
Were snatched by the eight maids a-milking.

On the third day after Christmas the dancing ladies were leaped
By the lords, all except for one; Jack went "Eep!"
Apparently he found out he wasn't quick;
He didn't make it over the candlestick.

I never mentioned the pipers and drummers;
If you're wondering what happened,
They all made all the money they could
By getting together and rappin'.


And yeah, some of this is perverted. I'm evil.