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
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 rung the necks
Of both those turtle doves
My true love, my true love,
My true love gave to
The third day after Christmas,
My mother caught the croup.
I had to use those 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
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
Nine ladies dancing,
Ten lords-a-leaping,
Eleven pipers piping,
Twelve drummers drumming—
(Well, actually I kept one of the drummers.)
And sent them back collect.
I told my true love,
“We are through, love,”
And I said, in so many words,
“Furthermore your Christmas gifts
Were for the birds!”
*(sung while half the choir is holding “birds”)
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.
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