The twelve days after Christmas

The first day after Christmas

My true love and I had a fight

And so I chopped the pear tree down

And burnt it, just for spite

Then with a single cartridge

I shot that blasted partridge

My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

The second day after Christmas

I pulled on the old rubber gloves

And very gently wrung the necks

Of both the turtle doves

My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

On the third day after Christmas

My mother caught the croup

I had to use the three French hens

To make some chicken soup

The four calling birds were a big mistake for their language was obscene

The five golden rings were completely fake and turned my fingers green.

The sixth day after Christmas

The six laying geese wouldn’t lay

So I sent the whole darn gaggle to the

R.S.P.C.A.

My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

On the seventh day, what a mess I found The seven swans-a-swimming all had drowned.

The eighth day after Christmas

Before they could suspect

I bundled up the

Eight maids-a-milking

Nine ladies dancing

Ten lords-a-leaping

Eleven pipers piping

Twelve drummers drumming

And sent them back collect

I wrote my true love

“We are through, love!”

And I said in so many words

“Furthermore your Christmas gifts were for the Birds!”

Four calling birds,

Three French hens,

Two turtle doves

And a partridge in a pear tree!”

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