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The Twelve Days after Christmas

Frederick Silver
Published: Alfred Publsihing Company on behalf of CPP/Belwin Inc.

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 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 gave to me.

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 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 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 –
(Well, actually I kept one of the drummers!)
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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