On the ninth day of Christmas my ex true-love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing.
I told the postman for todays delivery I wouldn’t sign
But thought of my ex true-love so had to resign.
And I pondered is this gift a comment on my two left feet,
Because when it came to dancing I couldn’t compete.
With my ex true-loves elegant waltz and Foxtrot,
While I staggered to keep up like a punch-drunk boxer.
As for the nine ladies they’re in the garden leaping around
If anybody stops to watch then I charge them a pound.
I thought any cash raised by this might go some way
To paying for seed for all my gifted feathery strays.