Eleven of twelve

On the eleventh day of Gubmas, my true love sent to me
Eleven shooters shooting,
Ten Fords a-rusting,
Nine locked and loaded,
Eight mags o’ munitions,

Seven arméd women,

Six geese for slaying,
Five Gold Cup gubs,

Four falling birds,
Three ranch hands,
Two shooting gloves,

And a cartridge in a bare tree.