Lyrics:

Chorus (after each verse):
I'm a four loom weaver as many a man knows
Nowt to eat and I've worn out my clothes
Clogs are both broken and stockings I've none
Hardly give me tuppence for all I've got on

Old Billy at Bent, he kept telling me long
We might have better times if I'd but held my tongue
I holded my tongue 'til I near lost my breath
And I feel in my heart that I'll soon starve to death

We held out for six weeks, thought each day was the last
We tarried and shifted 'til now we're quite fast
We lived upon nettles when nettles were good
Waterloo Porridge was best of our food

Our Margaret declares if she'd clothes to put on
She'd go up to London and see the great man
Things didn't alter when there she had been
She swears she'll fight with blood up to thine

I'm a four loom weaver as many a man knows
Nowt to eat and I've worn out my clothes
Stockings I've none and no looms to weave on
I've woven myself to the far end...