Sung to the the tune of the 12 days of Christmas.

On the 1st day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: A barbarian in a fur bikini.

On the 2nd day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Some git with pointed ears.

On the 3rd day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: A monk in tennis shoes.

On the 4th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: A badly behaved peer.

On the 5th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: An underaged, drunk mundane.

On the 6th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Six hours of court.

On the 7th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Seven Trekkies talking.

On the 8th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: The 8AM herald.

On the 9th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Nine Magic players.

On the 10th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Ten off-rhythm dumbeks.

On the 11th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Eleven Lords a-leching.

On the 12th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Twelve negligent parents.

On the 13th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: Thirteen obscene Vikings.

On the 14th day of thirty-year, my true love killed for me: The writer of this song.

- by Tri biLeith of House Inshallah.
Permission has been granted for the widest possible distribution of this song.

Note 1: Why 14 days?? She dedicated it to those of us who had been suckered into being autocrats of some type.
Myself, I was the Senior Constable in-charge of Communications. Most of us were there before and after the event.