On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, a partridge in a Christmas tree.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, two aardvark baths and an unwell partridge in a rather brown Christmas tree.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, three black poles, at least two aardvark baths and a partridge (now in a critical condition) in an old Christmas tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me (sorry, I couldn't think of anything there were four of), a Russian submarine and a large sea, bigger, in fact, than the Caspian sea, three black poles, two of one type and one of another, two or more aardvark baths and a dying partridge in a Christmas tree from several years ago.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, five squashed bananas (well, more like a hundred or so), a Russian submarine, now out of use, a large and rather muddy ocean (bigger, do not forget, than the Caspian sea), three black poles of differing shapes and sizes, several aardvark baths and a dead partridge, now fallen out of the Christmas tree, pining for the fjords.
On the nth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, n perfectly sane individuals, n-1 new wonders of Ispog, n-2 pints of beer, 35 seconds of gas oil, far too many silly songs and a partridge pie, contents no longer in the disappeared Christmas tree.
The above is yet another stupid song from a Gopsi member. (Still, it could have been the Wombles theme tune, in Latin).