Posted by: westlancashirerecord | December 26, 2016

Who Was In The Workhouse?

It was Christmas Day in the workhouse,
And the cold, bare walls were bright
With garlands of green and holly,

And the place was a pleasant sight.
For with clean-washed hands and faces,
In a long and hungry line
The paupers sat at the table
For this was the hour they dine.


And the guardians and their ladies,
Although the wind was east,
Came in their furs and wrappers,

To watch their charges feast;
To smile and be condescending,
Putting pudding on pauper plates.

To be hosts at the workhouse banquet
They’d paid for with the council rates


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