Lyrics Christmas Countdown - Frank Kelly

Christmas Countdown

Day One
Dear Nuala,
Thank you very much for your lovely present of a partridge
in a pear-tree.
We’re getting the hang of feeding the
partridge now, although it was difficult at first to
win its confidence.
It bit the mother rather badly
on the hand but they’re good friends now and we’re
keeping the pear-tree indoors in a bucket.
Thank you again.
Yours affectionately,
Gobnait O’Lúnasa
Day Two
Dear Nuala,
I cannot tell you how surprised we were to hear from
you so soon again and to receive your lovely present
of two turtle doves.
You really are too kind.
At first the partridge was very jealous and suspicious
of the doves and they had a terrible row the night
the doves arrived.
We had to send for the vet but the
birds are okay again and the stitches are due to some
out in a week or two.
The vet’s bill was £8 but the
mother is over her annoyance now and the doves and
the partridge are watching the telly from the pear-tree as I write.
Yours ever,
Gobnait
Day Three
Dear Nuala,
We must be foremost in your thoughts.
I had only posted my letter when the three French hens
arrived.
There was another sort-out between the hens
and the doves, who sided with the partridge,
and the vet had to be sent for again.
The mother was raging because the bill was £16 this
time but she has almost cooled down.
However, the fact that the birds' droppings keep falling
down on her hair whilen she’s watching the telly,
doesn’t help matters.
Thanking you for your kindness.
I remain,
Your Gobnait
Day Four
Dear Nuala,
You mustn’t have received my last letter when you were
sending us the four calling birds.
There was pandemonium in the pear-tree again last night
and the vet’s bill was £32.
The mother is on sedation as I write.
I know you meant no harm and remain your close friend.
Gobnauit
Day Five
Nuala,
Your generosity knows no bounds.
Five gold rings !
When the parcel arrived I was scared
stiff that it might be more birds,
because the smell in the living-room is atrocious.
However, I don’t want to seem ungrateful for the beautiful rings.
Your affectionate friend,
Gobnait
Day Six
Nuala,
What are you trying to do to us?
It isn’t that we don’t appreciate your generosity but
the six geese have not alone nearly murdered the calling
birds but they laid their eggs on top of the vet’s
head from the pear-tree and his bill was £68 in cash
!
My mother is munching 60 grains of Valium a day and
talking to herself in a most alarming way.
You must keep your feelings for me in check.
Gobnait
Day Seven
Nuala,
W e are not amused by your little joke.
Seven swans-a-swimming is a most romantic idea but
not in the bath of a private house.
We cannot use the bathroom now because they’ve gone
completely savage and rush the door every time we try
to enter.
If things go on this way,
the mother and I will smell as bad as the living-room
carpet.
Please lay off.
It is not fair.
Gobnait
Day Eight
Nuala,
Who the hell do you think gave you the right to send
eight, hefty maids-a-milking here,
to eat us out of house and home?
Their cattle are all over the front lawn and have trampled
the hell out of the mother’s rose-beds.
The swans invaded the living-room in a sneak attack
and the ensuing battle between them and the calling
birds, turtle doves, French hens and partridge make
the Battle of the Somme seem like Wanderly Wagon.
The mother is on a bottle of whiskey a day,
as well as the sixty grains of Valium.
I’m very annoyed with you.
Gobnait
Day Nine
Listen you louser !
There’s enough pandemonium in this place night and
day without nine drummers drumming,
while the eight flaming maids-a-milking are beating
my poor, old alcoholic mother out of her own kitchen
and gobbling everything in sight.
I’m warning you, you’re making an enemy of me.
Gobnait
Day Ten
Listen manure-face,
I hope you’ll be haunted by the strains of ten pipers
piping which you sent to torment us last night.
They were aided in their evil work by those maniac
drummers and it wasn’t a pleasant sight to look out
the window and see eight hefty maids-a-milking pogo-ing
around with the ensuing punk-rock uproar.
My mother has just finished her third bottle of whiskey,
on top of a hundred and twenty four grains of Valium.
You’ll get yours !
Gobnait O’Lúnasa
Day Eleven
You have scandalised my mother, you dirty Jezebel,
It was bad enough to have eight maids-a-milking dancing
to punk music on the front lawn but they’ve now been
joined by your friends ~ the eleven Lords-a-leaping
and the antics of the whole lot of them would leave
the most decadent days of the Roman Empire looking
like â??Outlookâ??.
I’ll get you yet, you ould bag !
Day Twelve
Listen slurry head,
You have ruined our lives.
The twelve maidens dancing turned up last night and
beat the living daylights out of the eight maids-a-milking,
â??cos they found them carrying on with the eleven
Lords-a-leaping.
Meanwhile,
the swans got out of the living-room,
where they’d been hiding since the big battle,
and savaged hell out of the Lords and all the Maids.
There were eight ambulances here last night,
and the local Civil Defence as well.
The mother is in a home for the bewildered and I’m
sitting here, up to my neck in birds' droppings,
empty whiskey and Valium bottles,
birds' blood and feathers,
while the flaming cows eat the leaves off the pear-tree.
I’m a broken man.
Gobnait O’Lúnasa