On the seventh day of Christmas

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me seven swans a-swimming. We are now unable to use our clean water, or our sinks in any capacity. We still have a French hen sitting in our fridge, four calling birds flying around (they're too quick to slaughter and eat) these geese that can't seem to produce any eggs (which I thought was the point) and my hand is covered in Gold that has dropped in value since we purchased them despite what Glenn Beck says so now we're out at least four digits just in gold.

Kill me.