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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
burned 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
The third day after Christmas, my mother
caught the croup;
I had to use the three Frech hens to make
some chicken soup
The four calling birds were a big mistake,
for their language was obscene
The five gold rings were completely fake and
they turned my fingers green
The sixth day after Christmas, the six
laying geese wouldn't lay
I gave the whole darn gaggle to the
A.S.P.C.A.
On the seventh day what a mess I found
All seven of the swimming swans had drowned
My true love, my true love, my true love
gave to me
The eighth day after Christmas, before they
could suspect,
I bundled up the eight maids a milking, nine
pipers piping,
Ten ladies dancing, 'leven lords a leaping,
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!"
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