Текст песни Christmas Countdown (Frank Kelly) с переводом

Day One

Dear Nuala,

Thank you very much for your lovely present of a partridge

in a pear-tree. We’re getting the hang of feeding the

partridge now, although it was difficult at first to

win its confidence. It bit the mother rather badly

on the hand but they’re good friends now and we’re

keeping the pear-tree indoors in a bucket. Thank you again.

Yours affectionately,

Gobnait O’Lúnasa

Day Two

Dear Nuala,

I cannot tell you how surprised we were to hear from

you so soon again and to receive your lovely present

of two turtle doves. You really are too kind.

At first the partridge was very jealous and suspicious

of the doves and they had a terrible row the night

the doves arrived. We had to send for the vet but the

birds are okay again and the stitches are due to some

out in a week or two. The vet’s bill was £8 but the

mother is over her annoyance now and the doves and

the partridge are watching the telly from the pear-tree as I write.

Yours ever,

Gobnait

Day Three

Dear Nuala,

We must be foremost in your thoughts.

I had only posted my letter when the three French hens

arrived. There was another sort-out between the hens

and the doves, who sided with the partridge,

and the vet had to be sent for again.

The mother was raging because the bill was £16 this

time but she has almost cooled down.

However, the fact that the birds' droppings keep falling

down on her hair whilen she’s watching the telly,

doesn’t help matters. Thanking you for your kindness.

I remain,

Your Gobnait

Day Four

Dear 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 last night

and the vet’s bill was £32.

The mother is on sedation as I write.

I know you meant no harm and remain your close friend.

Gobnauit

Day Five

Nuala,

Your generosity knows no bounds.

Five gold rings ! When the parcel arrived I was scared

stiff that it might be more birds,

because the smell in the living-room is atrocious.

However, I don’t want to seem ungrateful for the beautiful rings.

Your affectionate friend,

Gobnait

Day Six

Nuala,

What are you trying to do to us?

It isn’t that we don’t appreciate your generosity but

the six geese have not alone nearly murdered the calling

birds but they laid their eggs on top of the vet’s

head from the pear-tree and his bill was £68 in cash

! My mother is munching 60 grains of Valium a day and

talking to herself in a most alarming way.

You must keep your feelings for me in check.

Gobnait

Day Seven

Nuala,

W e are not amused by your little joke.

Seven swans-a-swimming is a most romantic idea but

not in the bath of a private house.

We cannot use the bathroom now because they’ve gone

completely savage and rush the door every time we try

to enter. If things go on this way,

the mother and I will smell as bad as the living-room

carpet. Please lay off. It is not fair.

Gobnait

Day Eight

Nuala,

Who the hell do you think gave you the right to send

eight, hefty maids-a-milking here,

to eat us out of house and home?

Their cattle are all over the front lawn and have trampled

the hell out of the mother’s rose-beds.

The swans invaded the living-room in a sneak attack

and the ensuing battle between them and the calling

birds, turtle doves, French hens and partridge make

the Battle of the Somme seem like Wanderly Wagon.

The mother is on a bottle of whiskey a day,

as well as the sixty grains of Valium. I’m very annoyed with you.

Gobnait

Day Nine

Listen you louser !

There’s enough pandemonium in this place 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, you’re making an enemy of me.

Gobnait

Day Ten

Listen manure-face,

I hope you’ll be haunted by the strains of ten pipers

piping which you sent to torment us last night.

They were aided in their evil work by those maniac

drummers and it wasn’t a pleasant sight to look out

the window and see eight hefty maids-a-milking pogo-ing

around with the ensuing punk-rock uproar.

My mother has just finished her third bottle of whiskey,

on top of a hundred and twenty four grains of Valium. You’ll get yours !

Gobnait O’Lúnasa

Day Eleven

You have scandalised my mother, you dirty Jezebel,

It was bad enough to have 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 whole lot of them would leave

the most decadent days of the Roman Empire looking

like â??Outlookâ??. I’ll get you yet, you ould bag !

Day Twelve

Listen slurry head,

You have ruined our lives.

The twelve maidens dancing turned up last night and

beat the living daylights out of the eight maids-a-milking,

â??cos they found them carrying on with the eleven

Lords-a-leaping. Meanwhile,

the swans got out of the living-room,

where they’d been hiding since the big battle,

and savaged hell out of the Lords and all the Maids.

There were eight ambulances here last night,

and the local Civil Defence as well.

The mother is in a home for the bewildered and I’m

sitting here, up to my neck in birds' droppings,

empty whiskey and Valium bottles,

birds' blood and feathers,

while the flaming cows eat the leaves off the pear-tree. I’m a broken man.

Gobnait O’Lúnasa

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