Does anyone know the alternative It was Christmas Day in the Workhouse and the snow was raining fast?

this is a local (Rossendale) parody of the original poem it continues- a barefoot boy with clogs on stood sitting on the grass. After that I am stuck.

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  • Favourite answer

    ROTFLMAO Michael, I had long forgotten that one!

    --That Cheekly Lad

  • 1 decade ago

    Hiya - I'm from Rossendale too. This is the version that my Mum told me.

    It was Christmas day in the workhouse

    The snow was raining fast

    A barefooted boy with clogs on

    Stood sitting on the grass (OR Went slowly whizzing past)

    He went round a straight bended corner

    To see a dead donkey die

    The farmer took a sword and shot it

    And the donkey asked him why

    Was it you that sent the letter to the free press?

    Source(s): My mum
  • 6 years ago

    It was Christmas Day in the workhouse

    The snow was raining fast

    A bare footed girl with clocks

    Stood lying on the grass

    She offered me a plain cake with currants in

    I ate it and gave it her back

    I took her to the pictures

    The fronts seats at the back

    As I remember it. Often told by my dad.

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    It was Christmas Day in the workhouse

    The one day of the year

    when paupers' hearts were full of joy

    their bellies full of beer.

    Then up spake the workhouse master

    he was a wicked sod

    you'll do your tasks this afternoon

    or there'll be no Christmas pud

    Just then one of the boys stood up

    his face as bold as brass

    "you can keep your Christmas pudding mate,

    and stick it ........."

    last line forgotten

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    it was christmas eve in the work house the puddings were piping hot a barefooted boy with clogs on came in and scofted the lot

    it was christmas eve in the workhouse the puddings were piping hot a barefooted boy with clogs on came slowly whizzing by he turned a straight bent corner and saw a dead donkey die so he took out his gun to shoot it and the bloody thing wee'd in his eye

    Source(s): my dad ues to tell this poem to me when i was younger
  • 6 years ago

    IT WAS CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE WORKHOUSE

    THE SNOW WAS RAINING FAST

    A BAREFOOTED BOY WITH CLOGS ON

    RAN DOWNSTAIRS WITH HIS FEET IN HIS POCKET

    TRIPPED OVER A DEAD CAT AND HALF KILLED IT

    THE FIRE ENGINE CAME ROUND A STRAIGHT CORNER

    ON TWO WHEELS

    THIS TALE WAS TOLD BY TWO WHITE BLACKMEN

    SITTING AT THE CORNER OF A ROUND TABLE

    EATING VINEGAR WITH A KNIFE AND FORK.........

  • 4 years ago

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  • Anonymous
    4 years ago

    Rain

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    My dad used to recite this!

    I know there was one line about "The Currants in the pudding were few and far between"

    And "This enraged the Workhouse master and he swore by all his gods that he's stop their Christmas pudding, the dirty lot of sods!"

    "Then up spake one old pauper, his face as bold as brass - 'We don't want your Christmas Pudding, you can stick up it your a*se'".

    I don't remember the full poem sorry.

  • 1 decade ago

    Hi !

    Well, hinny,

    Having been born in the workhouse, in North Sheilds, although they had turned it into a maternity hospital, I was told one about -

    (In Geordie, mind you)

    It was Christmas day in the workhoose

    The gruel was awful thin

    Lackin' in meat and now't to eat

    Santa cme fleein' doon the chimney

    So they hoyed the b*gger in.

    Courtesy of Fred Reed, my great Uncle.the poet.

    Cheers,

    Bob.

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