Jonathan Dodd‘s latest column. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
Some Christmas songs make no sense. Like the Twelve Days of Christmas. Which twelve days are these? I know of Christmas Day. And then Boxing Day, although what Boxing has got to do with Christmas escapes me. After that there are some days off, if you’re lucky enough to work in an office, otherwise you’re back at work. Then there’s New Year, Eve and Day. After that, it’s another whole year of work and weekends.
The song itself is weird. On the first day of Christmas, the narrator is given by his or her true love a Partridge in a Pear Tree. I don’t know about you, but this seems on the face of it to be an unusual gift, to say the least. I don’t know much about partridges, but I would assume them to be a protected species, and the commercial or charitable giving and receiving of said birds would probably be subject to legal sanction. And let us remember that a partridge is for life, not just for Christmas. The bird will have to be housed and fed for the whole of its lifetime, not to mention vet’s bills and annual checkups.
Was it wrapped?
Then there’s the aforementioned pear tree. Is this a fruit-bearing tree of adult size? These are big trees. I remember my dad had a couple of pear trees in our small back garden, and I had to climb them to pick pears in autumn. How was this tree delivered? Was it wrapped? Was the recipient expecting it? Where was it supposed to go? Or maybe it had been felled, and was being delivered as firewood. We need to know.
Perhaps the tree was a small sapling bought from a gardening centre. In which case the poor partridge would have had great trouble squatting in any of its branches. And what a strange idea, to give someone a tree for Christmas. Where would it go? The receivee of the gift might be living in a flat, or in one of those new houses with a postage-stamp-sized back garden. Hardly room for half a swing, let alone a tree-bearing arboreal presence. No thought had been given to the gift. Hardly the actions of a true love of any worth.
What’s with the strange bird fetish?
From here, things only get worse, according to the song. On the second day, with the arrival of two turtle doves, and another partridge in another tree. Do turtle doves get on with partridges? What’s with the strange bird fetish? Are the turtle doves a pair, and are they going to produce young? What do they eat? Then there’s the second pear tree. Let’s hope the singer has a large garden after all.
Three French hens next. And another pair of turtle doves, and yet another pear tree, and another of those dratted partridges. They haven’t even got nice feathers. What’s a French hen anyway? Does that mean it came from France, or was it bought in France? Do you need a licence to import them? They’ll need a very costly henhouse and a run that won’t allow foxes in.
At last, a bit of sanity
More birds? What’s going on? What are ‘calling birds’ anyway? I’ve heard of singing birds, and whistling birds, even birds that mimic human voices, but ‘calling’? What do they call? How are they going to get on with all those french hens (three more of these today), and turtle doves (two more today), and the four partridges? The neighbours are going to start complaining soon.
At last, a bit of sanity, and something useful. Five gold rings. Unfortunately they’re accompanied by more birds and yet another pear tree. They’ll need to be sold on eBay as soon as possible, to pay for all the feed and pet management facilities.
Back to the avian madness again
Oh, oh! Back to the avian madness again. Six geese. They’re known to be noisy and bad-tempered and territorial, they’ll need a lake, and they produce enormous amounts of goose poo. This is starting to get out of hand. Besides, there are more hens and calling birds and doves and another partridge. At least all those pear trees will shield the vise of all those birds. Five more gold rings may not be enough to pay for it all though.
Seven swans! You must be joking! They’ll fight with the geese. You’ll need van-loads of bread to feed them with every day. The lake will have to be extended. The din is already ridiculous. The neighbours have called in the environmental health agency. The area is being targeted by gangs of foxes.
The elephant in the room
At last there’s an end to the bird madness. This true love has obsessions that last a short time and then they change tack, leaving other people to sort out the ensuing chaos. This is either a true love that transcends all other true loves, or the engagement needs to be called off ASAP, before it gets even more out of hand. But there are eight maids a-milking now. The thing the song doesn’t mention is the elephant in the room. If they’re milking, they each have to have at least one cow. Which means more than eight cows.
Think about it. If they’re milking all the time, they can’t spend all day milking one cow, so there have to be lots of cows queueing up to be milked, and those cows have to have a lot of grass to eat so they can make milk, and they have to have stables and pasture and management, and they have to be registered with the Ministry. And the birds – swans and geese and calling birds and the other stuff keep arriving as well.
They’ll need music
I think you’re getting the picture by now. Nine ladies dancing. Are they dancing on their own? What are they dancing to? Any hopes that this scenario might involve a silent disco with earphones and mp3 players doesn’t seem likely. They’ll need music, either live, which means a band or orchestra, and, mostly because the cacophony of birds and cows, there would need to be some serious electronic amplification involved. And nine ladies would require some sort of building or very large room, to prevent them bumping into each other.
Lords a-leaping would strain my credulity. Most of the lords you see are ancient, and are about as good at leaping as elephants are. So these lords would have to be persuaded to arrive and be ready to leap. Continuously. They would need a lot of room and equipment. What would they be leaping over? You don’t just leap, after all. You have to have something to leap over. And they’d need good showering facilities and changing rooms, and places to rest and recuperate. Not to mention massages and medical attention.
They have to walk about
As if there wasn’t enough chaos and noise, the arrival of eleven pipers actually piping would drove me completely mad. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen a piper who was content to sit in a corner and pipe. Oh no! They have to walk about, or even march. In formation. Especially the Scottish version, although various other countries are known for their strange enjoyment of piping in all its forms. These pipers would expect to do a lot of piping though, since that’s what they’re doing in the song.
Let’s not forget that all the birds and maids and lords keep being delivered every day too.
Finally, the last gift arrives. Oh happy day! Twelve drummers. Drumming. No doubt marching as well. No doubt wanting nothing to do with the pipers. No doubt the dancing ladies would complain that they can’t hear their dancing music, and the pear trees are everywhere, and the garden has turned into a churned-up bird sanctuary larger than Wales, and there are going to be no more gold rings arriving to continue paying for it all, and the whole town has signed the petition by now and they’re threatening vigilante action.
An unspecified number of Christmas cows
How would you feel about a true love who had the following items delivered to you for Christmas?
Twelve partridges and pear trees and drumming drummers
Twenty-two turtle doves and piping pipers
Thirty French hens and leaping lords
Thirty-six calling birds and dancing ladies
Forty gold rings and milking maids
Forty-two swimming swans and laying geese
Not forgetting an unspecified number of Christmas cows
And all within a two-week period. That’s a Christmas I wouldn’t forget in a while!
If you have been, thank you for reading this. And I hope your presents were much more fun.
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