by 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