The Single Girl's 12 Years of Christmas

(Feel free to skip to the end if you aren't the type to sing along like me. 
Otherwise, get ready to sing a new version of the 12 Days of Christmas... gleefully.)

Ostrich photograph ©2011 - Rachel Hoyt
Holiday photo editing assistance provided by Lens Tripping Photography. 
Thank you, Jewell.  You rule!

On my first single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
A magic money-growing tree.

On my second single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my third single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree. 

On my fourth single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my fifth single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my sixth single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Six gamblers gambling,
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my seventh single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Seven jokesters rambling,
Six gamblers gambling,
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my eighth single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Eight posh vintners,
Seven jokesters rambling,
Six gamblers gambling,
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my ninth single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Nine soul sisters,
Eight posh vintners,
Seven jokesters rambling,
Six gamblers gambling,
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my tenth single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Ten pills for popping,
Nine soul sisters,
Eight posh vintners,
Seven jokesters rambling,
Six gamblers gambling,
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my eleventh single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
Eleven gems for gawking,
Ten pills for popping,
Nine soul sisters,
Eight posh vintners,
Seven jokesters rambling,
Six gamblers gambling,
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree.

On my twelfth single Christmas,
I wished Santa’d bring to me
free plastic surgery,
Eleven gems for gawking,
Ten pills for popping,
Nine soul sisters,
Eight posh vintners,
Seven jokesters rambling,
Six gamblers gambling,
Five gay designers,
Four fine diners,
Three nice seamen,
Two handymen,
And a magic money-growing tree! 

© 2011 - All rights reserved - Rachel Hoyt

Technorati Tags: Christmas, Holidays, Song Parody, Humor, Rhyme, Poetry

Fifty Ways to Bling Your Wristy

The moment I saw this funny cartoon on Neatorama, a tune popped into my head: 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover by Paul Simon.  Thankfully, the artist agreed to let me use his image as well so I could finish writing this song parody in rhyme.

Image used by permission.  © Lunchbreath. All rights reserved.

The problem is your screwed up mind she said to me.

The answer is simple if you just think stylishly.

Fashion's here to help with your watch-free identity.

There must be fifty ways to bling your wristy.

She said I usually don't insult a sister's style.

But I think you got that watch from a thrift store jewelry pile.

That you still wear one brings to me an awkward smile.

There must be fifty ways to bling your wristy.

Fifty ways to bling your wristy.

You could make a cool cash stash.

A pocket for chill pills.

But don't wear a toy. Oy!

That's just plain silly.

Get hip to the style, child.

You'll be smiling for a while...

Just some sort of bling thing

and something glue-e.

She said creatively

think less plain than a chain.

I wish for you a miniature zoo

though that sounds insane.

I said I'd really like that

and please, what else remains

on your list of ways...

She said I'm so sorry but

we're closing for the night.

I believe crafting til morning,

would help you to see the light.

And then it hit me -

I realized that she probably was right.

I'll think of fifty ways

to bling my wristy.

Fifty ways to bling my wristy.

I'll make me an ouch puch.

Maybe I'll darn yarn.

Hide things I buy.  Why?

Just 'cuz it's funny.

Nicknacks on display, eh?

I believe I've got a pile...

There the fifty things will be.

I'll bling my wristy.

Fifty ways to bling my wristy...

© Rachel Hoyt 2011.  All rights reserved.


My NaPoWriMo Poem #6

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Entertainment, Blogging, NaPoWriMo, Humor, Poetry