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.
 
 On the seventh day, what a mess I found
 The seven swans-a-swimming all had drowned
 (I think there's a "my true love gave to me" in here somewhere)
 
 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 - 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
 (Soprani) Birds!"
 
 (Everyone else) Four calling birds,
 Three french hens,
 Two turtle doves
 And a partridge in a pear tree!"