On the eighth day of Christmas my ex true-love sent to me
Eight maids a milking
When I saw todays arrival wasn’t birds I sighed with relief,
And put my new guests to work cleaning my sheets,
Hoovering up feathers and bits of sticky egg-shell.
So my home might look like heaven not an avian hell.
Now my ex true-love always liked the house to be clean
And since she’s left I haven’t been tidy, but I mean
Does she think it needs eight people to clean this house?
And what’s with the milking, should I expect eight cows?
I went to bed that night wondering what was in store
And whether tomorrow I should answer the door.