The Twelve Days of Christmas
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Good morning, Saniya. Please keep it up. Right. 25th December. My dearest darling. That partridge in that lovely little pear tree. What an enchanting romantic and poetic present. Bless you and thank you. You're deeply loving, Sam. Sewing for this we are William 26. December, My dearest darling Kevin Thie. Two turtledoves arrived this morning and are occurring away in the pear tree. As I write, I'm so touched and grateful with undying love as always, Theo. Good morning, Saniya, please. 27th December, my darling Kevin, You do think of the most original presence. Whoever thought of sending anybody three French hens, they really come all the way from France. It's a pity we have no chicken group, but I expect you'll find some Thank you anyway. They're lovely. You're loving thing. Sign here, please. Thank you. Bye bye. 28 December Dearest Kevin. What a surprise. Four calling birds arrived this morning. They're very sweet. Even if they do call rather loudly, they make telephoning impossible. But I expect they'll come down when they eat. Used to their new home. Anyway, I'm very grateful. Of course I am love from Sam. 29th of December. There was Kevin. The Postman has just delivered five most beautiful gold rings, one for each finger and all fitted perfectly a really lovely present, lovelier in a way than birds we to take rather a lot of looking after before that arrived yesterday is still making a terrible row. And I'm afraid none of us got much sleep last night. Mummy says she wants to use the rings to wring their necks. And she's only joking, I think. Although I know what she means, but I love the rings. Bless you. Laugh, Sam. All right, go up. Sign for this. We are 30th December. Dear Kevin, whatever I expected to find when I open the front door this morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese laying eggs all over the doorstep. Frankly, I rather hoped would stop sending me birds. We have no room for them, and they have already ruined the croquet lawn. I know you meant well, but let's call a halt, shall we? I love Sam. 31st of December. Kevin, I thought I said no more birds. But this morning I woke up to find no less than seven swans, all trying to get into my tiny goldfish pond. I'd rather not think what happened to the goldfish. So how Well, **** seems to be full of birds to say nothing of what they leave behind. Please, Please stop you, Sam. All right, stay back it out. First of January. Frankly, I think I prefer the birds. What am I to do with eight milk mates on DH there? Carols? Is this some kind of a joke? Because if so, I'm afraid I don't find it very amusing. Sam. Theo. Second of January. Look, Kevin, this has gone far enough. You say you're sending me nine ladies dancing? All I can say that, judging from the way they dance, they're certainly not. Ladies Village just isn't accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless buses with nothing on by their lipstick cavorting around the green. And his mummy and I were getting blamed. If you value our friendship, which I do less and less kindly stop this ridiculous behaviour at once found. Come on out. Third of January As I write this letter, 10 disgusting old men a prancing about all over what used to be the garden before the geese and the swans and the cows, that is. And several of them, I notice, are taking inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids. Meanwhile, the neighbours are trying to have us evicted. I shouldn't never, ever speak to you again, Sam. Oh, sales of January. This is the last straw. You know, I detest back. The place has now become something between a menagerie and a madhouse. And a man from the council has just declared it unfit for habitation. At least Mummy has been spared this last outrage. They took her away yesterday afternoon in an ambulance. I hope you're satisfied. 5th January. So our client, Miss Sam Elmhurst, instructs me to inform you that with the arrival on her premises are half past seven this morning off the entire percussion section off the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and several off their friends. She has no course left open to her but to seek an injunction to prevent you importuning her further. I am making arrangements for the return ofthe much assorted life stock. I am, sir. Yours faithfully. G creep, Solicitor at law,