Lyrics:

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 dem a tear up, trousers a go
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde

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

I said I get up in the morning slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed

Poor, me Israelites
Poor, me Israelites, I'm a wandering, a working so hard
Poor, me Israelites
Poor, me Israelites