On the first day of Christmas, my true l

On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: A partridge with anxiety. On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: Two drunk turtles, And a partridge with anxiety. On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: Three French hens on strike, Two drunk turtles, And a partridge with anxiety. On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: Four calling birds that won’t stop calling tech support, Three French hens on strike, Two drunk turtles, And a partridge with anxiety. On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: FIIIIVE GOLDEN SPOONS! (We ordered rings but budget cuts… sorry.) On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: Six geese rehearsing Shakespeare, FIIIIVE GOLDEN SPOONS! Four calling birds on hold, Three hens with protest signs, Two drunk turtles, And a partridge with anxiety. On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: Seven swans doing pilates, Six geese quoting Hamlet, FIIIIVE GOLDEN SPOONS! Four calling birds buffering, Three French hens striking, Two drunk turtles, And a partridge with anxiety. On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: Eight maids a-milking… nothing. The cows are on holiday. Nine ladies dancing (But mostly arguing about choreography). Ten lords a-leaping (One sprained an ankle, the rest refused). Eleven pipers piping (But only playing “Baby Shark”). Twelve drummers drumming— Except they’re all out of rhythm, Fighting over who ate the last mince pie, And chasing the partridge, Who is STILL very anxious AND THAT, MY FRIENDS, WAS THE CHRISTMAS THEY CANCELLED THE BIRDS!