Luyện nghe bài hát It's Christmas Day

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

Day Two
Nuala,
I cannot tell you how surprised we were to hear from you so again and to receive your lovely present of two turtle doves
You are too kind
At first the partridge was very
And suspicious of the doves and they had a row the night the doves arrived
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 the telly from the pear-tree as I write Yours ever, Gobnait

Day
Nuala,
We must be foremost in your
I had only posted my when the three French hens arrived
There was sort-out 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 was 16 this time
But she has cooled down
However, the fact that the birds' droppings keep falling
On her hair whilen she's watching the telly, doesn't matters
Thanking you for your
I remain, your

Day
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 night and the vet's bill was 32
The mother is on sedation as I
I know you no harm and remain your close friend

Day
Nuala,
Your generosity no bounds
Five gold rings! When the parcel arrived I was scared stiff that it might be more birds, the smell in the living-room is atrocious
However, I don't to seem ungrateful for the beautiful rings
Your friend, Gobnait

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

Day
Nuala,
We are not amused by little joke
Seven swans-a-swimming is a most romantic idea but not in the bath of a house
We cannot use the bathroom now because they've completely savage
And rush the door every we try to enter
If things go on this way, the and I will smell as bad as the living-room carpet Please lay off It is not fair

Day
Nuala,
Who the hell do you think you the right to send eight,
maids-a-milking here, to eat us out of house and home?
Their are all over the front lawn
And have trampled the out of the mother's rose-beds
The swans invaded the living-room in a attack
And the battle between them and the calling birds,
Turtle doves, French hens and make the battle
Of the Somme seem like Wagon
The mother is on a bottle of a day, as well as the sixty grains of Valium
I'm annoyed with you

Day
you looser!
There's enough pandemonium in this place night and day without 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 of me

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

Day
You have 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 decadent of the Roman Empire looking like Outlook
get you yet, you loud bag!

Day
Listen head,
You have ruined our
The maidens dancing turned up last night
And beat the daylights out of the eight maids-a-milking,
'Cause they found them carrying on with the Lords-a-leaping
Meanwhile, the got out of the living-room,
Where been hiding since the big battle,
And hell out of the Lords and all the Maids
There were eight here last night, and the local Civil Defence as well
The is in a home for the bewildered
And I'm sitting here, up to my in birds' droppings, empty whiskey
And Valium bottles, blood and feathers,
the flaming cows eat the leaves off the pear-tree
I'm a man.