Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me Israelites, ah
Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me Israelite
My wife and my kids, they packed up and leave me
Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen
Poor me Israelites
Shirt them a-tear up, trousers is gone
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde
Poor me Israelites
After a storm there must be a calm
They catch me in the farm
You sound your alarm
Poor me Israelites

16 tracks