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The Twelve Days Of Christmas
THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS:
On the first day of Christmas my true love said to me, I'm glad we've bought a turkey and a proper Christmas tree.
On the second day of Christmas much laughter could be heard as we tucked into our turkey - a most delicious bird.
On the third day of Christmas we'd friends in from next door. The turkey tasted just as good as on the day before.
On the fourth day of Christmas Gran came, she's rather old. We finished up the Christmas pud and ate the turkey cold.
On the fifth day of Christmas outside the snowflakes flurried but we were nice and warm inside - we ate the turkey - curried.
On the sixth day of Christmas the turkey spirit died. The children fought and bickered and we ate the turkey - fried.
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave a wince when he sat down to dinner and was given turkey mince.
On the eighth day of Christmas the dog ran off for shelter. I served up turkey pancakes and a glass of Alka Seltzer.
On the ninth day of Christmas poor Dad began to cry. He said he couldn't stand the strain of eating turkey pie.
On the tenth day of Christmas the air was rather blue and everybody grumbled at eating turkey stew.
On the eleventh day of Christmas the Christmas tree was moulting. Mince pies as hard as rock and the turkey quite revolting.
On the twelfth day of Christmas at last Dad smacked his lips. The guests had gone, the turkey too - we dined on fish and chips!
On the first day of Christmas my true love said to me, I'm glad we've bought a turkey and a proper Christmas tree.
On the second day of Christmas much laughter could be heard as we tucked into our turkey - a most delicious bird.
On the third day of Christmas we'd friends in from next door. The turkey tasted just as good as on the day before.
On the fourth day of Christmas Gran came, she's rather old. We finished up the Christmas pud and ate the turkey cold.
On the fifth day of Christmas outside the snowflakes flurried but we were nice and warm inside - we ate the turkey - curried.
On the sixth day of Christmas the turkey spirit died. The children fought and bickered and we ate the turkey - fried.
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave a wince when he sat down to dinner and was given turkey mince.
On the eighth day of Christmas the dog ran off for shelter. I served up turkey pancakes and a glass of Alka Seltzer.
On the ninth day of Christmas poor Dad began to cry. He said he couldn't stand the strain of eating turkey pie.
On the tenth day of Christmas the air was rather blue and everybody grumbled at eating turkey stew.
On the eleventh day of Christmas the Christmas tree was moulting. Mince pies as hard as rock and the turkey quite revolting.
On the twelfth day of Christmas at last Dad smacked his lips. The guests had gone, the turkey too - we dined on fish and chips!
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