Israelites

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