Twelve Days of Christmas for the Paranoid Caroler

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Disclaimer (just in case): I do not own, nor claim to own, the song "Twelve Days of Christmas." I am not making money off of this endeavor.
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On the first day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
A nasty case of herpes

On the second day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the third day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the forth day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the fifth day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the sixth day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Six liars lying
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the seventh day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Seven fascists plotting
Six liars lying
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the eighth day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Eight spies a-spying
Seven fascists plotting
Six liars lying
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the ninth day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Nine Martians landing
Eight spies a-spying
Seven fascists plotting
Six liars lying
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the tenth day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Ten Assassins aiming
Nine Martians landing
Eight spies a-spying
Seven fascists plotting
Six liars lying
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the eleventh day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Eleven red dots appearing
Ten Assassins aiming
Nine Martians landing
Eight spies a-spying
Seven fascists plotting
Six liars lying
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes

On the twelfth day of Christmas my stalker gave to me...
Twelve souls a-dying
Eleven red dots appearing
Ten Assassins aiming
Nine Martians landing
Eight spies a-spying
Seven fascists plotting
Six liars lying
Five poisoned drinks
Four extra shadows
Three black cats
Two tinfoil hats
And a nasty case of herpes
Last edited by Luxor on Sat Nov 25, 2006 1:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
If there's ever a meat shortage, eat this profile; it's full of balogna.




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Haha, very well done. Twelthe should be 'twelfth', but that's no matter. I couldn't resist, but I knew I couldn't really judge this until I sung it myself, and I must say that after doing so I really enjoyed it. My favourite part was the five poisoned drinks, half because its well-written and half because it sounds so good when sung the way it is. I have nothing to say except that this was great, and that I encourage everyone to sing it loudly.

Once again, well done.
Gone, gone from New York City,
where you gonna go with a head that empty?
Gone, gone from New York City,
where you gonna go with a heart that gone?




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Strange, and wierd, but very clever at the same time. Well done!

RR*
Want a faithful critique? PM me!

Luv RR*




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Inertia, thanks for pointing that out, it has been fixed. And I'm very glad you all liked it. :D
If there's ever a meat shortage, eat this profile; it's full of balogna.




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XD
Funny XD

Though I don't see how the stalker gave you herpes, unless...

OH MY GOD!!




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Heeheeheee... :twisted:
If there's ever a meat shortage, eat this profile; it's full of balogna.




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omg i love you.

ahem.
"Nothing I could write would be as shocking and offensive as censorship itself." -Deb Caletti




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me and my dad about had a heart attack when we sung it to mmy om . shee passed out.
future best-sellor authour,
amber lee




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lol, it works with the tune, hee hee.
When did I realize I was God? Well, I was praying and I suddenly realized I was talking to myself. - Peter O'Toole



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