On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A Japanese
transistor radio.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Green polka-dot
pajamas,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
(It's a Nakashuma.)
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A calendar book
with the name of my insurance man,
Green polka-dot pajamas,
And a Japanese
transistor radio.
(It's the Mark IV model. That's the one that's
discontinued.)
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A simulated
alligator wallet,
A calendar book with the name of my insurance man,
Green
polka-dot pajamas,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
(And it comes in a
leatherette case with holes in it,
So you can listen right through the case.)
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A statue of a lady,
with a clock where her stomach ought to be,
A simulated alligator
wallet,
A calendar book with the name of my insurance man,
Green polka-dot
pajamas,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
(And it has a wire with a thing
on one end that you
Can stick in your ear, and a thing on the other
end
That you can't stick anywhere, because it's bent.)
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A hammered aluminum
nutcracker,
And all that other stuff,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A pink satin
pillow that says San Diego, with fringe all around it,
And all that other
stuff,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
An indoor plastic
birdbath,
And all that other stuff,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A pair of teakwood
shower clogs,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A chromium
combination manicure scissors and cigarette lighter,
And a Japanese
transistor radio.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
An automatic
vegetable slicer that works when you see it on television, but not when you get
it home,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, although it may seem strange,
On the
twelfth day of Christmas, I'm going to exchange:
An automatic vegetable
slicer that works when you see it on television, but not when you get it
home,
A chromium combination manicure scissors and cigarette lighter,
A
pair of teakwood shower clogs,
An indoor plastic birdbath,
A pink satin
pillow that says San Diego, with fringe all around it,
A hammered aluminum
nutcracker,
A statue of a lady, with a clock where her stomach ought to
be,
A simulated alligator wallet,
A calendar book with the name of my
insurance man,
Green polka-dot pajamas,
And a Japanese transistor radio.
Merry Christmas everybody!
Return to "My Son, The Box" -- The Allan Sherman CD Box Set
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