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Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir,
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so that every mouth can be fed.
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Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
|
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Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir,
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So that every mouth can be fed.
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Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
|
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My wife and my kids, they are packed up and leave me.
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Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen.
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Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
|
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Shirt them a-tear up, trousers are gone.
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I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde.
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Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
|
|
After a storm there must be a calm.
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They catch me in the farm. You sound the alarm.
|
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
|
|
Poor me, the Israelite.
|
I wonder who I'm working for.
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Poor me, Israelite,
|
I look a-down and out, sir.
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-----------------
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Israelites
|
| Desmond Dekker & The Aces |
