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 A.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!”