algy Posted December 24, 2011 Report Share Posted December 24, 2011 It was Christmas Day in the workhouse the snow was raining fast a bare footed man with clogs on came walking running past he turned around a straight crooked corner to see a dead donkey die he pulled out his pistol to stab him the donkey spat in his eye next day he went to the theatre he had a front seat at the back he fell from the floor to the gallery and broke a front bone in his back a lady gave him an orange he ate it and gave it her back it was Christmas Day in the workhouse and the snow was raining fast. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Peter T Posted December 25, 2011 Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 Nice one. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
harry hayes Posted December 25, 2011 Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 I agree. Happy days Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
algy Posted December 25, 2011 Author Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 I agree. Happy days My Dad who had been brought up in Padgate Cottage Homes learned in there and used to recite it to me when I was a little lad. Here is the correct version:- CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE WORKHOUSE A dramatic monologue, published by George Robert Sims in 1879, as a criticism of the harsh conditions in workhouses under the nineteenth century Poor Law. IN THE WORKHOUSE - CHRISTMAS DAY by George R. Sims ( 1847 - 1922 ) It is Christmas Day in the workhouse, and the cold, bare walls are bright With garlands of green and holly, and the place is a pleasant sight; For with clean-washed hands and faces in a long and hungry line The paupers sit at the table, for this is the hour they dine. And the guardians and their ladies, although the wind is east, Have come in their furs and wrappers to watch their charges feast; To smile and be condescending, putting on pauper plates. To be hosts at the workhouse banquet, they've paid for with the rates. 0h, the paupers are meek and lowly with their 'Thank'ee kindly, mums' So long as they fill their stomachs what matter it whence it comes? But one of the old men mutters and pushes his plate aside, "Great God!" he cries, "but it chokes me; for this is the day she died!" The guardians gazed in horror, the master's face went white; Did a pauper refuse their pudding? Could that their ears believe right? Then the ladies clutched their husbands, thinking the man would die, Struck by a bolt, or something, by the outraged One on high. But the pauper sat for a moment, then rose 'mid silence grim, For the others had ceased to chatter and trembled in every limb: He looked at the guardians' ladies, then, eyeing their lords, he said; "I eat not the food of villains, whose hands are foul and red;" "Whose victims cry for vengeance from their dark, unhallowed graves." "He's drunk," said the workhouse master, "or else he's mad and raves." "Not drunk or mad," cried the pauper, "but only a haunted beast, Who, torn by the hounds and mangled, declines the vulture's feast." "I care not a curse for the guardians, and I won't be dragged away; Just let me have the fit out, it's only on Christmas Day... That the black past comes to goad me and prey on my burning brain; I'll tell you the rest in a whisper, I swear I won't shout again. "Keep your hands off me, curse you! Hear me right out to the end. You come here to see how paupers, the season of Christmas spend; You come here to watch us feeding, as they watched the captured beast; Here's why a penniless pauper, spits on your paltry feast." "Do you think I will take your bounty and let you smile and think You're doing a noble action with the parish's meat and drink? Where is my wife, you traitors, the poor old wife you slew? Yes, by the God above me, my Nance was killed by you." "Last Winter my wife lay dying, starved in a filthy den. I had never been to the parish, I came to the parish then; I swallowed my pride in coming! for ere the ruin came I held up my head as a trader, and I bore a spotless name. "I came to the parish craving, bread for a starving wife Bread for the woman who'd loved me thro' fifty years of life; And what do you think they told me, mocking my awful grief, That the house was open to us, but they wouldn't give out relief." "I slunk to the filthy alley, 'twas a cold, raw Christmas Eve And the bakers' shops were open, tempting a man to thieve; But I clenched my fists together, holding my head awry, So I came to her empty-handed and mournfully told her why." "Then I told her the house was open; she had heard of the ways of that For her bloodless cheeks went crimson, and up in her rags she sat, Crying, 'Bide the Christmas here, John, we've never had one apart; I think I can bear the hunger, the other would break my heart." "All through that eve I watched her, holding her hand in mine, Praying the Lord and weeping till my lips were salt as brine; I asked her once if she hungered, and she answered 'No.' The moon shone in at the window, set in a wreath of snow." "Then the room was bathed in glory, and I saw in my darling's eyes The faraway look of wonder, that comes when the spirit flies; And her lips were parched and parted, and her reason came and went. For she raved of our home in Devon, where our happiest years were spent." "And the accents, long forgotten, came back to the tongue once more. For she talked like the country lassie I wooed by the Devon shore; Then she rose to her feet and trembled, and fell on the rags and moaned, And, 'Give me a crust, I'm famished... for the love of God,' she groaned. "I rushed from the room like a madman and flew to the workhouse gate, Crying, 'Food for a dying woman!' and the answer came, 'Too late!' They drove me away with curses; then I fought with a dog in the street And tore from the mongrel's clutches a crust he was trying to eat." "Back through the filthy by-ways... back through the trampled slush! Up to the crazy garret, wrapped in an awful hush; My heart sank down at the threshold, and I paused with a sudden thrill. For there, in the silv'ry moonlight, my Nance lay cold and still." "Up to the blackened ceiling, the sunken eyes were cast I knew on those lips, all bloodless, my name had been the last; She called for her absent husband... Oh God! Had I known-- Had called in vain, and, in anguish, had died in that den alone." "Yes, there in a land of plenty, lay a loving woman dead. Cruelly starved and murdered for a loaf of the parish bread; At yonder gate, last Christmas, I craved for a human life, You, who would feed us paupers, what of my murdered wife?" "There, get ye gone to your dinners, don't mind me in the least, Think of the happy paupers eating your Christmas feast And when you recount their blessings in your parochial way, Say what you did for me too... only last Christmas Day." Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dizzy Posted December 25, 2011 Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 I like your dads version Algy and it made me smile ... the correct version is really sad Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
algy Posted December 25, 2011 Author Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 I like your dads version Algy and it made me smile ... the correct version is really sad There is a rude version with substituted words but I don't think it is suitable to place on here. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dizzy Posted December 25, 2011 Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 Can you can pm it to me Algy Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cleopatra Posted December 25, 2011 Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 Many are the times I have heard the words It was Christmas Day in the workhouse, usually in a comical vein, but this is the first time I have read the words that followed them. So sad. So sad. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
harry hayes Posted December 25, 2011 Report Share Posted December 25, 2011 Think your dad would be very pleased to see the words in print Algy, if things to be are like that. Great posting. Lovely memory. Happy days Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
algy Posted December 26, 2011 Author Report Share Posted December 26, 2011 Can you can pm it to me Algy Dizz, I have PM'd you as requested. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dizzy Posted December 26, 2011 Report Share Posted December 26, 2011 Thanks Algy, I just read them and I'm still laughing Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
algy Posted December 26, 2011 Author Report Share Posted December 26, 2011 Thanks Algy, I just read them and I'm still laughing Your welcome Dizz, pity I can't show them on here but although not vile some people may find them offensive and apart from our hardened members we must consider our guests, If anyone would like to read them I am more than happy to send them with a PM just let me know on here or PM me, if it is the latter be patient as I very often forget to check my WW mail. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dizzy Posted December 26, 2011 Report Share Posted December 26, 2011 It is a pitty you can't put them on here as like you say they really aren't that bad... well a couple nearly are Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cleopatra Posted December 26, 2011 Report Share Posted December 26, 2011 Count me in Algy! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
algy Posted December 27, 2011 Author Report Share Posted December 27, 2011 Count me in Algy! On it's way in a PM Cleo, enjoy. :grin: Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cleopatra Posted December 27, 2011 Report Share Posted December 27, 2011 Cheers Algy! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.