The first day after Christmas, my true love and I had a fight
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 old rubber gloves
And very gently wrung the necks of both 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 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 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 ASPCA
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, eleven 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!"
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 old rubber gloves
And very gently wrung the necks of both 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 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 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 ASPCA
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, eleven 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!"
~ Frederick Silver
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