Israelites - The Selecter

Israelites Lyrics

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 are packed up and leave me
Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen
Poor me, Israelites
Well, shirt them a tear-up, trousers are gone
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde
Poor me, Israelites
And after a storm there must be a calm
They catch me in your farm, you sound your alarm
Poor me, Israelites

I 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 are packed up and leave me
Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen
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
Poor me, Israelites
Poor me, Israelites
Poor me, Israelites
Poor me, Israelites
---
Lyrics powered by lyrics.tancode.com
written by THOMPSON, CHARLES
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group