Israelites

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're packed up and they leave me
Darling, she said, I was yours to receive

Poor me, Israelites

Well, shirt them a tear-up, trousers are go
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're packed up and they leave me
Darling, she said, I was yours to receive

Poor me, Israelites

Shirt them a tear-up, trousers are go
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