7th Day of Christmas

The seventh day of Christmas
Taunted me to thee
Teasing cherry dreams
And spent spoiled creams
All curdled in a bowl of rye

Swept from my oak table
With a forearm full of hungry rage
I went forth into the wild for some prey
Something free range and not from a cage

Feeling inspired I found a killer bee hive
Repelling them with my manimal stench
I alighted with honeycomb under each arm
Making for a landmark called The Bear Trench

Arriving at the spot
I broke out the honey
Smearing it on from head to hairy toe
Then running and leaping like a huge ugly bunny

I flipped in the air with grace belying my size
Arriving back-first and right side up
Ten feet in the air and a sight to see
Firmly stuck with honey to the bark of an oak tree

It was then that I started to call out
In a wild bear call that I'd learned from a wizard
Which worked nine times out of ten
The trick was to vibrate the sound inside the gizzard

Soon from deep in the ravine woods
Came a growling and crashing
A black bear smashing into view
Teeth flashing and gnashing!

When the distance was right
I pushed off from that tree
With a roar from the floor of my diaphragm
I did tackle that bear
Sending fur flying till I could scarcely see

Now on this seventh day of Christmas
Also happening to be New Year's Eve
I give thanks and celebrate the year in passing
With two inch thick barbecued bear steaks
So good that you'd scarcely believe

Interstate Oceans

Sailors upon a concrete sea
Our tires our hulls
Plowing the hard roman stone
'Neath metal carriages full of you and me

6th Day of Christmas

The sixth day of Christmas
Snuck in like a sloth
Which means it took forever to arrive
But looked exceedingly cute doing so

I'd love to say that it brought me geese a'plenty
Six of them
All laying eggs

But that didn't happen
What happened was more amazing:

Woke up in the morning
With a frown on my face
Washing, eating, dressing
Like it was a human race

Stepped outside my door
And what did I see
But a terrible Holiday Turtle
Staring down at me

He was tall as ten tall buildings
And built like a truck
He bid me climb up on his back
So I tried but it wasn't enough

I got two tall wood ladders
And screwed them into one
Defied me some gravity
And laughed as my pants came undone

It was a Monday
The Sixth Day
Of Christmas!
And way too tall turtle
Was my turtle shelled bus

Just then the turtle
Really put it into gear
Tearing up the yard real bad
And forgetting to steer

Swerving into traffic
Going super turtle fast
Which left him going pretty slow
And getting constantly passed

I don't think that I am getting to work today.....

It was a Monday
The Sixth Day
Of Christmas!
I'm riding a ten story tall turtle
And can't deny it's a gas

My shelled ride hung a right just then
And walked onto the lake
Breathed turtle fire to melt that ice
So that he could paddle on fast

Long story short

That turtle got me to work on time
Lumbered off honking his horn
He'd be back by at quarter to nine
To take me home
Where I'm not alone
With a too tall turtle pal
And a box of fine wine

It was a Monday
It was the Sixth Day
Of Christmas!

5th Day of Christmas

On the fifth day of Christmas

I awoke with a start to see

That my French hen from day three

Had done something unsettling to me

Five gold rings she'd inserted

Into some of my tenderest of parts

All joined by one golden chain 

With which she could inflict pleasurable pain

The one in my nose

Was a wonder to behold

Inscribed with words

And facets for reflection

Twin gold rings

One for each sensitive nipple

Each tug on the chain leash

Felt at least times triple

Another for my scrotum

Right on the seam down the middle

Currently making a non-stop burning sensation

Which really didn't tickle

Now, the one in the head of my cock

Was quite thick and handsome

With a tiny bell on the ring as well

That would tinkle lightly as I would walk

So it would seem with my sexy French hen Aceline

Who holds tight to my new chain with zero misgive

That on this fifth Christmas day

I'll be learning to be a submissive

4th Day of Christmas

On the fourth day of Christmas
Four calling birds showed up
Singing songs of the impending new year
And rudely waking me up

Four special calling bird rounds
I loaded into my shotgun
Leaping out my door with a yell
And firing at them one by calling bird one

When the smoke cleared
And let back in the rising sun
I couldn't find any trophy calling birds
Turns out I hadn't hit a one

But now it was quiet all around my cabin
So I crept my way back to the bedroom
Slipping under the covers with my hot French hen
Filling my head with her heady musk perfume

The third day hadn't been bad
And now that those damned calling birds were gone
The fourth has some hope to it yet

These things I thought to myself
With a soft stroke to my French hen and a little light yawn

3rd Day of Christmas

On the third day of Christmas
Three French hens stopped by
Not a one of them would give me a try
And I cannot imagine as to why

Is the very suggestion of a foursome so offensive?

So off I went lickety split
In my sleigh made of whiskers
Held together with shit
Making a hell of a clatter
Drinking hot spiked cocoa
Drunk and mad as a hatter

I awoke later that same day
Face down in the snow
Half covered with hay
Being disturbed by a goat
Who thought my hair was a treat
Pulling it out by the roots and not letting go
Till I tweaked her right in a teat
Allowing me to beat a hasty retreat

Where on my long staggering walk home in the cold
I reflected upon getting old
And the questionable wisdom of doing shrooms on a Thursday
Plus a great many other things all told

When who to my wondering eyes did appear
Warming herself at my kitchen wood stove
But one of the French hens in a push up brassiere
Telling me something excitedly in her native tongue
But exactly what, was sort of unclear

Though I am starting to get the general drift of what she's all about
What with her soft dark skin and smooth French words pouring out of her mouth
Giving me the best third day of Christmas gift that could be
Of herself and me beneath my wretched Charlie Brown tree

2nd Day of Christmas

On the second day of Christmas
I worked filling in where my hearth should be
The evidence of my spiked man-trap
Strategically located at the base of the chimney

First throwing in some lime
In the hopes Saint Nicholas would soon dissolve
Shovelful followed shovelful
Each time feeding my festive resolve

To plausibly deny any involvement
With what was at the bottom of the hole
Wrapped in red velvet trimmed with white fur

Past that
I played with my new Lego sets
Eating festive cookies
With fresh buttered baguettes

Some packages were prepared
For the postman and the butcher
The paperboy and snow removal guy
And a babysitter named Ericka

Then I opened them all back up
Rewarding myself instead
Boxing Day is a European holiday after all
And this is 'Murica!

All washed down with two things I love
A locally brewed beer
And two barbecued turtle doves