Thank you very much for your lovely present of a partridge in a pear-tree. WeÂre 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 theyÂre good friends now and weÂre keeping the pear-tree indoors in a bucket. Thank you again.
Yours affectionately,
Gobnait OÂLúnasa
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 vetÂs 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 sheÂs watching the telly, doesnÂt help matters. Thanking you for your kindness.
I remain,
Your Gobnait
Day Four
Dear Nuala,
You mustnÂt 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 vetÂs 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 donÂt want to seem ungrateful for the beautiful rings.
Your affectionate friend,
Gobnait
Day Six
Nuala,
What are you trying to do to us ? It isnÂt that we donÂt appreciate your generosity but the six geese have not alone nearly murdered the calling birds but they laid their eggs on top of the vetÂs 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 theyÂve 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 motherÂs 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. IÂm very annoyed with you.
Gobnait
Day Nine
Listen you louser !
ThereÂs 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. IÂm warning you, youÂre making an enemy of me.
Gobnait
Day Ten
Listen manure-face,
I hope youÂll 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 wasnÂt 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. YouÂll get yours !
Gobnait OÂLúnasa
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 theyÂve 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 ÂOutlookÂ. IÂll 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, Âcos they found them carrying on with the eleven Lords-a-leaping. Meanwhile, the swans got out of the living-room, where theyÂd 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 IÂm 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. IÂm a broken man.
