It was Christmas day in the workhouse,
The day of all the year
The pauper were all merry with their bellies full of beer
And the kind old workhouse master
As he paced those grimy halls
wished them a Merry Christmas
And someone answered Balls
Now this enraged the workhouse master
Who swore by all his gods
I'll stop their Christmas pudding
The rotten lot of sods
Then up spoke one old pauper
With his face as bold as brass
We don't want your christmas pudding
You can stick it up your arse.

It was Christmas day in the harem
And the eunuchs sat on the stairs
Watching the sultans thousand wives
combing their golden hairs
And the kind old sultan asked them
As he paced those marbled halls
What would you like for Christmas
And the Eunuchs answered Balls