Luyện nghe bài hát It's Christmas Day

Day One
Nuala,
Thank you very for your lovely present of a partridge in a pear-tree
getting the hang of feeding the partridge now,
Although it was difficult at first to win its
It bit the mother rather on the hand
But they're good now and we're 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 soon again and to receive your lovely of two turtle doves
You are too kind
At first the partridge was jealous
And suspicious of the doves and they had a row the night the doves arrived
We had to send for the vet but the birds are again
And the stitches are due to some out in a or two
The vet's bill was 8 but the is over her annoyance now
And the and the partridge are watching the telly from the pear-tree as I write Yours ever, Gobnait

Day
Nuala,
We must be foremost in thoughts
I had only posted my when the three French hens arrived
was another sort-out between the hens and the doves,
Who sided with the partridge, and the vet had to be for again
The mother was raging because the bill was 16 this
But she has almost down
However, the fact that the birds' keep falling down
On her hair whilen she's watching the telly, help matters
Thanking you for kindness
I remain, Gobnait

Day
Nuala,
You mustn't have received my last 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 as I write
I know you meant no harm and remain close friend

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

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

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

Day
Nuala,
Who the hell do you think gave you the right to eight,
Hefty maids-a-milking here, to eat us out of house and
Their cattle are all the front lawn
And have trampled the hell out of the rose-beds
The swans the living-room in a sneak attack
And the battle between them and the calling birds,
Turtle doves, French hens and partridge the battle
Of the Somme like Wanderly Wagon
The mother is on a of whiskey a day, as well as the sixty grains of Valium
I'm very with you

Day
you looser!
There's enough pandemonium in this 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, making an enemy of me

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

Day
You have my mother, you dirty Jezebel,
It was bad enough to 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 lot of them would leave
The most decadent days of the Roman looking like Outlook
I'll get you yet, you bag!

Day
slurry head,
You have our lives
The twelve maidens dancing up last night
And beat the living 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,
they'd been hiding since the big battle,
And savaged hell out of the Lords and all the
were eight ambulances here last night, and the local Civil Defence as well
The mother is in a home for the
And I'm here, up to my neck in birds' droppings, empty whiskey
And Valium bottles, blood and feathers,
While the flaming cows eat the leaves off the
I'm a man.