Not long to go now until the big day... just time for a few thousand rounds of my favourite Christmas song. Join in if you know the tune:
On the first day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
A fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the second day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the third day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the fourth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the fifth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the sixth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Six greasy scrapings,
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the seventh day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Seven snotbugs screaming,
Six greasy scrapings,
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the eighth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Eight toads a-sulking,
Seven snotbugs screaming,
Six greasy scrapings,
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the ninth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Nine hateful glances,
Eight toads a-sulking,
Seven snotbugs screaming,
Six greasy scrapings,
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the tenth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Ten lice a-leaping,
Nine hateful glances,
Eight toads a-sulking,
Seven snotbugs screaming,
Six greasy scrapings,
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
On the eleventh day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Nothing.
What do you mean nothing?
Why, the scurvy little skinflint... wait 'til I get my hands on him...
On the twelfth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Twelve trumpers trumping,
Eleven nasty nothings
Ten lice a-leaping,
Nine hateful glances,
Eight toads a-sulking,
Seven snotbugs screaming,
Six greasy scrapings,
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
Nothing.
What do you mean nothing?
Why, the scurvy little skinflint... wait 'til I get my hands on him...
On the twelfth day of Christmas Long John Mercury sent to me:
Twelve trumpers trumping,
Eleven nasty nothings
Ten lice a-leaping,
Nine hateful glances,
Eight toads a-sulking,
Seven snotbugs screaming,
Six greasy scrapings,
Five moldy things,
Four cosmic burps,
Three stench scents,
Two dirty gloves
& a fart-midge and a spare flea.
