Israelites

Poor me, IsraelitesI get up in the morning slaving for bread, sir

So that every mouth can be fedPoor me, IsraelitesMy wife and my kids they packed up and leave me

Darling, she said, I was yours to be seenPoor me, IsraelitesWell, shirt them a tear-up, trousers are gone

I dont want to end up like Bonnie and ClydePoor me, IsraelitesAnd after a storm there must be a calm

They catch me in your farm, you sound your alarmPoor me, IsraelitesI get up in the morning slaving for bread, sir

So that every mouth can be fedPoor me, IsraelitesMy wife and my kids they packed up and leave me

Darling, she said, I was yours to be seenPoor me, IsraelitesShirt them a tear-up, trousers are gone

I dont want to end up like Bonnie and ClydePoor me, Israelites

Poor me, Israelites

Poor me, IsraelitesPoor me, Israelites

Poor me, Israelites