A protestant lived in our house.
We rented the place downstairs,
She had a room on top.
I knew she was different
Because people said she was a protestant
As if she has measles
Or came from the North Pole.
Once when we giggled in church,
The woman behind said
That I was as bad as a protestant.
On Christmas day when I was six,
A game of rings
And a huge bar of Bournville chocolate-
I remember that because it tasted
Different to a sixpenny Cadbury’s-
Were slipped under the door.
My mother said they came for Mrs. Kirby.
At last I knew what a protestant was
Thought I had always thought
That Father Christmas was one of us.
– Tim Cunningham
Photographs by Natalie Woociker: