Christmas Eve in the Workhouse It was Christmas night in the workhouse And the paupers was having their dinners. And the preacher he called from the top of the hall-- "Get down on your knees, you sinners. And them poor paupers knelt in that cheerless room On their benches hard and wooden. And the preacher called in a voice of doom-- "Bring on the Christmas puddin." "Put down your heads," says he with a leer, "Cause I want you all to think Of the sins of the flesh that has brung us here, Tobacco and women and drink." "And I'm telling youse now and I'm telling youse good. " And his voice took a dangerous edge. "No one gets to ate the puddin Till everyone takes the pledge." And a chill of doom ran round the room. You could cut the air with a knife As each man searched in the depths of his soul For the sins of his wasted life. And then them paupers rose as one And said as bold as brass. "You can keep your Christmas puddin and stick it .... I'm not sure there were twenty-one more lines or if it even really completes the rest of the poem by Sims. It sounds as if it may have been changed by the Irish show writers. But it is similar to Sims and the Canadian version in another thread. H RG oct97
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!