Lyrics:

Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me, Israelites

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 pack up and a leave me
'Darling,' she said 'I was yours to receive'
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

After a storm there must be a calming
You catch me in your farm, you sound your alarm
Poor me, Israelites

I said I get up in the morning, stabbing for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me, Israelites

Said my wife and my kids, they pack up and a leave me
'Darling,' she said 'I was yours to receive'
Poor me, Israelites

Look, me shirt them a-tear up, trousers are gone
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde
Poor me, Israelites

After a storm there must be a calming
You catch me in your farm, you sound your alarm
Poor me, Israelites

Poor me, Israelites
I'm wonder why I'm working so hard
Poor me, Israelites
I look down and out, sir