| Get up in the morning slaving for bread, sir
|
| So that every mouth can be fed
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| My wife and my kids they are packed up and leave me
|
| Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| Well, shirt them a tear-up, trousers are gone
|
| I don’t want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| And after a storm there must be a calm
|
| They catch me in your farm, you sound your alarm
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| I get up in the morning slaving for bread, sir
|
| So that every mouth can be fed
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| My wife and my kids they are packed up and leave me
|
| Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| Shirt them a tear-up, trousers are gone
|
| I don’t want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| Poor me, israelites
|
| Poor me, israelites |