Welly Clamming.
“Everywhere we hear this, the Lancashire Doric for nearly starving.” – Correspondents.
Hear the plaint, ‘tis not a cry,
Here’s no whining, wailing, shamming,
Think what sorrows underlie
“Welly Clamming.”
In our prisons rascals sleep
Amply fed, well-nigh to cramming,
Honest hearts in silence weep,
“Welly Clamming.”
Shameless beggars bellow loud,
Thoughtless benefactors bamming;
These by fireless chimneys bowed,
“Welly Clamming.”
Shameless paupers enter bold
Workhouse doors behind them slamming,
These sit shivering in the cold,
“Welly Clamming.”
Clothe them; blankets, jackets, hose,
In a kindly hurry ramming
Into bags sent off to those
“Welly Clamming.”
Feed them. Round no union door
They stand jeering, jostling, jamming;
Send them food, and hear no more
“Welly Clamming.”
Were the stream of gold, I wis,
E’er so near to check and damming,
It must flow in flood at this –
“Welly Clamming.”
Help them. Spring will soon be here,
Smiling, greening, flowering, lambing,
You’ll be paid to miss that drear
“Welly Clamming.”
These are forced and feeble rhymes –
Let the faintest praise fall damming
On them, so their moral chimes
“Welly Clamming.”
- Punch.