Christmas In The Workhouse
It was Christmas in the workhouse,
 The best day of the year,
And the paupers all were happy,
For their guts were full of beer.
 The warden of the workhouse,
 Strode through the dismal halls,
 And wished them Merry Christmas,
 And the paupers answered "Balls"
This made the warden angry,
And he swore by all the Gods,
They'd have no Christmas pudding,
The lousy bunch of sods
 Up sprang a war-scarred veteran,
 Who had stormed the Khyber Pass.
 We don't want your Christmas pudding,
Shove it up your fucking ass!
  She scooped the goo with one fair hand,