Campden Voices 

by The Old 'Un, 10 June, 2006

You tells me, there’s nothin’ can be done
To save my wife and starving son
But you be lit by fire and candle light
To warm you on the coldest night.
With fresh picked vegetables there to eat,
Sat on plates of roasted meat.
Yon lurcher be a gnawin’ on a bone
Finer than any victuals in my! ‘ome.

You leaves me, stood, out in the yard
Tellin’ me just how hard
Your family’s suffered here of late
Starin’ at an empty grate. 
But bisn’t they and bisn’t thee
A sittin’ round the Christmas tree
Singing songs of stars and gold
While I be ‘ere stood in the cold?

To you, master I do implore!
But with that he do close the door
On my word and in my face
As though I’m just an empty space.
With now no reason for to stay
I slowly turns an’ walks away.
Drawn along the cobbled street
Echoin’ to my hobnail feet.

I cannot return with empty hand
I have to borrow from of the land.
Through the alder hedge I push
Ripped by thorns on brier bush.
I feel the blood runnin’ thin
And flowin’ warm across my skin.
I lift my arm and quickly lick
With hunger pains and feelin’ sick.

Pulling ‘taters from a berry
Not enough for makin’ merry.
Just enough to lift the latch
And offer to my starving batch.
Then off into the dead of night
Under darkness taking flight.
Back to empty plate and spoon
Seen only by a freezin’ moon.

I catch my toe and fall right there
Onto a rabbit caught in a snare.
From that wire I sets his spirit free
And take his body ‘ome for tea.
I show my family what I’ve brought
Potatoes and rabbit freshly caught.
We thanked the Lord on Christmas day
And prayed for poverty to go away!!