Christmas Countdown

Frank KellyBuy this song

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 

Day Five
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
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 

Day Seven
We 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 

Day Eight
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 

Day Nine
Listen you looser!
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 

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 scandalized 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 Outlook 
I'll get you yet, you loud 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, 
'Cause 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


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Christmas Countdown