Col Gray
Now you've heard about Albert Ramsbottom,
As were ett by a lion one day'
And were regurgitated much later
Wi' is hands and face cleaner, they say.

Well when Christmas time drew a bit nearer
And Gran had her Winter drawers on,
Young Albert were gettin' excited
And 'is little red cheeks fairly shone.

But Albert were kept short of money
For Ma's purse were shut tight, like a vice ;
And Father grew deaf to all that he said ,
Until he said words that weren't nice.

So wi' four rosy cheeks all a-glowin',
Young Albert walked down to t'old rec
Where he sat on a swing, legs a-danglin',
And he muttered, "By gum," and "Eeh 'eck".

Just then he heard distant music
The sort that a choir might sing
And his eyes, fair lit up as he muttered,
"Carol singin' now, that's just the thing."

Now Albert had heard about Carollers'
And how, if they sang, they got paid
Wi' money, and mince pies and spice cake,
And he thowt, "Now, I've got it made!"

Of carols he knew half a dozen
Well ,most of the tunes and some words .
He knew about wise men and t'shepherds
And in t'stable just what had occurred.

So smoothin his hair wi' some spittle,
He set off to t'first house in t'street;
He'd not long had a bath, so now then, don't laugh
Young Albert looked really quite sweet.

Then he took a big breath and got started
Wild shepherds were first what he sang,
And from one end o't'street to the other
His vocal exertions they rang.

They say, as he cracked several winders,
And curdled both custards and creams
And at number four, someone fainted on t'floor
And them still in bed had bad dreams.

Unaware of effect of his efforts
Young Albert screeched higher and higher:
Folk in t'neighbouring streets, clung in fear to their seats
And the brave shouted out, "Where's the fire?"

And folk from Blackburn to Clitheroe,
From Rawtenstall, Burnley and Colne,
Thought witches had met up on Pendle
And were screeching a song of their own.

Then he stopped, and he knocked, and doors opened,
And in tears, for folk knew they were beat,
Thrust money and mince pies on Albert,
And begged him to find a new street.

A street far away were suggested
In a town full of clamour and din,
Or perhaps on a lightship in't channel
Warnin' sailors where not to come in.

But some said that were cruel to sailors
So they gave him a fiver right then
Provided he gave 'em a promise
To never sing carols again.

Thus Albert he made this agreement
Though his gob were chock full o'mince pies
He accepted the sum, then he choked on a crumb
Which really brought tears to his eyes.

So Albert went home somewhat richer
But there's a sad end to this tale
His father took money for t'glazier
But as usual, spent it on ale.
The end