A forgotten gem(?) of my adolescence.

As I'm approaching my dotage I'd like to be reminded of the missing six days. My memory stretches thus far:

On the seventh night of Christmas I took to bed with me
Seven sex-starved spinsters
Six convicted vicars
Five ?
Four virgin maids
Three French whores
Two shithouse doors
And my Lord Montague of Beaulieu

I won't be singing it at the folk club, or even whispering it while my daughter is around for Christmas as she is even more ideologically sound than I am, but I'm hoping that if I know the whole of the lyric it will stop it from being a constant earworm that's becoming almost as persistent as my tinnitus.

Ta. And merry Christmas.