….. my true love gave to me:
What’s that you say, there is no thirteenth day of Christmas? No wonder I couldn’t come up with what happened on the 13th day. But tomorrow is Old Christmas day and isn’t that the last day of Christmas? No, I knows for sure that January seventh is the last day of Christmas – back in Newfoundland it was the last day for mummering and you could get rid of the last scraps of Christmas cake by giving it to the Mummers with their drink. That’s when we’d take the tree down and put Christmas back in the box. I’m so confused. Excuse me while I go off and consult Father Google, I’ve had more than enough of Christmas anyhow – in the middle of the night I opened my eyes to see that the drummers were piping, one of the nine dancing ladies was dancing with Keith Partridge to a square dance tune by one of the calling birds and a leaping lord was holding up a French hen. Guess that makes him a lifting Lord now.
© Judy Parsons 2020
p.s. Old Christmas Day has nothing to do with the 12 days of Christmas. Leave it to the Newfoundlanders to stretch Christmas out so’s they could have fourteen days of partying: from one Christmas Day to the next as it were.
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