And a partridge, in a pear tree.

Sometimes, for no apparent reason, my mind, much like the secretary in my front room, which is a clearing house for strange and amazing clutter, pops something out that I haven’t thought about in years.

Today, for no real reason, as I was finishing up a task at work, I started singing in my head, and the lyric that came out was “Cinq! Bébés! Battus!”

Of course, you’d more likely recognize “Five! Golden! Rings!”.

As a side note, Eddie Izzard does a hilarious bit on the 12 Days of Christmas. You Tube that if you get a chance.

When I was in high school, my French class made up a song about our class in French, to the 12 Days of Christmas.

Here are the ones I can remember, translated (because I remember them in French, but that means nothing to you, unless you happen to enjoy crappy French:

1 Class that doesn’t speak French.
2 Presidents (we had co-presidents of the French club in our class)
3 New Classmates
4 Duck, Duck, Gooses (we used to play Canard, Canard, Oie outside sometimes during class)
5 Beaten babies (because we had to create skits that almost always ended in someone drop kicking a baby)
6 Seniors (the rest of us were Juniors)
7 Waves in Class (before we took quizzes and tests, we always did a stadium-style wave)
8 Stories by Monique (Monique’s real name was Sarah, and she told the funniest, meandering stories)
9 Jokes in bad taste (this verse was for, by and about me, and I say that with no shame)

After that, I cannot remember – I was so worried about blowing my verse, I guess I never learned the others.

I mean, not bad for 20 years ago, right?

But for some reason, I got “Cinq! Bébés! Battus!” stuck in my head a few minutes ago, and then had to see if I could shake out the rest. I’m tempted to check in with some of my old classmates on Facebook and see if they can remember the rest of it. Of course, like I said, my brain is stuffed full of the silly, trite and useless. I can remember 5/6 of a novelty song from two decades ago, but really, where is that going to get me? It’s not going to be a Daily Double on Jeopardy, a clue in the Sunday Times Crossword, or the question that gets me into Mensa.

It’s probably not normal that I enjoyed High School as much as I did.

Oh well.