From: dbrooks@osf.org (David Brooks)
Subject: Thankyou letters (was Re: More silly songs.)
Followup-To: soc.culture.british
Reply-To: dbrooks@osf.org (David Brooks)
Organization: Open Software Foundation
Date: Mon, 28 Dec 1992 21:31:59 GMT

dj@ekcolor.ssd.kodak.com (Dave Jones) writes:
>Quick, before the 12 days are over......

First heard Penelope Keith doing this, and then John Julius Norwich,
surprisingly well.  I don't know the author:



My dearest darling Edward,                        Dec 25
     What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me!  That sweet
partridge, in that lovely little pear-tree; what an enchanting,
romantic, poetic present!  Bless you, and thank you.
                    Your deeply loving
                              Emily.

Beloved Edward,                                   Dec 26
     The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing away in
the pear-tree as I write.  I'm so touched and grateful!
                    With undying love, as always,
                              Emily.

My darling Edward,                                Dec 27
     You do think of the most original presents!  Who ever thought of
sending anybody three French hens?  Do they really come all the way
from France?  It's a pity we have no chicken coops, but I expect we'll
find some.  Anyway, thankyou so much; they're lovely.
                    Your devoted Emily.

Dearest Edward,                                   Dec 28
     What a surprise!  Four calling birds arrived this morning.  They
are very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly - they make
telephoning almost impossible - but I expect they'll calm down when
they get used to their new home.  Anyway, I'm very grateful, of course
I am.
                    Love from Emily.

Dearest Edward,                                   Dec 29
     The postman has just delivered five most beautiful gold rings, one
for each finger, and all fitting perfectly!  A really lovely present!
Lovelier, in a way, than birds, which do take rather a lot of looking
after.  The four that arrived yesterday are still making a terrible
row, and I'm afraid none of us got much sleep last night.  Mother says
she wants to use the rings to "wring" their necks.  Mother has such a
sense of humor.  This time she's only joking, I think, but I do know
what she means.  Still, I love the rings.
                    Bless you,
                         Emily.

Dear Edward,                                      Dec 30
     Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door this
morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese laying eggs all
over the porch.  Frankly, I rather hoped that you had stopped sending
me birds.  We have no room for them, and they've already ruined the
croquet lawn.  I know you meant well, but let's call a halt, shall
we?
                    Love,
                         Emily.

Edward,                                           Dec 31
     I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS.  This morning I woke up to find no
more than seven swans, all trying to get into our tiny goldfish pond.
I'd rather not think what's happened to the goldfish.  The whole house
seems to be full of birds, to say nothing of what they leave behind
them, so please, please, stop!
                    Your Emily.

                                                  Jan 1
Frankly, I prefer the birds.  What am I to do with eight milkmaids?
And their cows!  Is this some kind of a joke?  If so, I'm afraid I
don't find it very amusing.
                    Emily.

Look here, Edward,                                Jan 2
     This has gone far enough.  You say you're sending me nine ladies
dancing.  All I can say is, judging from the way they dance, they're
certainly not ladies.  The village just isn't accustomed to seeing a
regiment of shameless viragos, with nothing on but their lipstick,
cavorting round the green, and it's Mother and I who get the blame.  If
you value our friendship, which I do (less and less), kindly stop this
ridiculous behavior at once!
                    Emily.

                                                  Jan 3
As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are prancing up and down
all over what used to be the garden, before the geese and the swans and
the cows got at it.  And several of them, I have just noticed, are
taking inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids.  Meanwhile the
neighbors are trying to have us evicted.  I shall never speak to you
again.
                    Emily.

                                                  Jan 4
This is the last straw!  You know I detest bagpipes!  The place has now
become something between a menagerie and a madhouse, and a man from the
council has just declared it unfit for habitation.  At least Mother has
been spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday afternoon
in an ambulance.  I hope you're satisfied.

Sir,                                              Jan 5
     Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to inform you that
with the arrival on her premises at 7:30 this morning of the entire
percussion section of the London Symphony Orchestra, and several of
their "friends", she has no course left open to her but to seek an
injunction to prevent you importuning her further.  I am making
arrangements for the return of much assorted livestock.
                    I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
                         G. Creep
                         Attorney at law.
-- 
David Brooks					dbrooks@osf.org
Open Software Foundation			uunet!osf.org!dbrooks
Shine out, fair sun, with all your heat!  Black winter freezes to his seat...
The boneless fish close quaking lies...the stars in icicles arise!
Newsgroups: soc.culture.british