Wednesday, December 28, 2016

The Twelve Days of Cumberland Turkey

On the first day of Christmas my true love said to me I'm glad we've 
bought a turkey and a Whitehaven 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 had friends in from Cleater Moor The 
turkey tasted just as good as on the day before.
On the fourth day of Christmas, Gran came from Kirkoswald. 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 
Cumberland turkey sausage 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 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 Workington fish and chips

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