Luyện nghe bài hát It's Christmas Day

Day One
Nuala,
Thank you very much for your present of a partridge in a pear-tree
We're the hang of feeding the partridge now,
it was difficult at first to win its confidence
It bit the mother badly on the hand
But good friends now and we're keeping the pear-tree indoors in a bucket
Thank you
affectionately, Gobnait O'Lúnasa

Day Two
Nuala,
I cannot tell you how surprised we were to hear from you so soon again and to receive your present of two turtle doves
You really are too
At the partridge was very jealous
And suspicious of the doves and they had a terrible row the night the doves
We had to send for the vet but the are okay again
And the are due to some out in a week or two
The bill was 8 but the mother is over her annoyance now
And the doves and the partridge are watching the telly the pear-tree as I write Yours ever, Gobnait

Day
Nuala,
We must be foremost in your
I had only posted my letter when the three French arrived
There was another between the hens and the doves,
Who sided with the partridge, and the vet had to be sent for
The mother was raging because the bill was 16 this
But she has almost cooled
However, the fact that the birds' droppings falling down
On her hair whilen she's watching the telly, doesn't help
Thanking you for kindness
I remain, your

Day
Nuala,
You mustn't have received my last letter when you were sending us the four calling birds There was in the pear-tree again last night and the vet's bill was 32
The is on sedation as I write
I know you meant no harm and remain your friend

Day
Nuala,
Your knows no bounds
Five gold rings! When the 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 rings
Your friend, Gobnait

Day Six
Nuala,
What are you trying to do to us? It isn't that we don't appreciate generosity
But the six geese have not alone nearly the calling birds
But they laid their eggs on top of the head
the pear-tree and his bill was 68 in cash!
My mother is munching 60 of Valium a day
And to herself in a most alarming way
You must keep your for me in check

Day
Nuala,
We are not amused by little joke
Seven swans-a-swimming is a most romantic but not in the bath of a private house
We cannot use the bathroom now because they've gone savage
And rush the door 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

Day
Nuala,
Who the hell do you think gave you the to send eight,
Hefty maids-a-milking here, to eat us out of and home?
Their cattle are all over the lawn
And trampled the hell out of the mother's rose-beds
The swans invaded the in a sneak attack
And the ensuing between them and the calling birds,
doves, French hens and partridge make the battle
Of the Somme seem Wanderly Wagon
The mother is on a bottle of whiskey a day, as well as the sixty of Valium
I'm very with you

Day
you looser!
There's enough pandemonium in this place night and day without nine drummers drumming, while the eight flaming are beating my poor, old alcoholic mother out of her own kitchen and gobbling everything in sight
I'm warning you, making an enemy of me

Day Ten
manure-face,
I hope you'll be by the strains of ten pipers piping
Which you sent to torment us last
They were in their evil work by those maniac drummers
And it wasn't a pleasant sight to out the window
And see eight hefty maids-a-milking pogo-ing around with the ensuing punk-rock
My has just finished her third bottle of whiskey,
On top of a hundred and four grains of Valium
get yours!
Gobnait

Day
You scandalized my mother, you dirty Jezebel,
It was bad enough to have eight maids-a-milking dancing to punk on the front lawn but they've now been joined by your friends the eleven Lords-a-leaping
And the antics of the lot of them would leave
The most days of the Roman Empire looking like Outlook
get you yet, you loud bag!

Day
slurry head,
You ruined our lives
The twelve maidens turned up last night
And beat the living out of the eight maids-a-milking,
'Cause they them carrying on with the eleven Lords-a-leaping
Meanwhile, the got out of the living-room,
Where they'd been hiding the big battle,
And hell out of the Lords and all the Maids
There were eight ambulances last night, and the local Civil Defence as well
The mother is in a home for the
And I'm sitting here, up to my neck in birds' droppings, empty
And Valium bottles, birds' and feathers,
While the cows eat the leaves off the pear-tree
I'm a man.