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by Desmond Dekker
Ethiopian girl
Click here to play Israelites
Get up in the
morning, slaving for bread, sir,
so that every mouth can be fed.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
Get up in the
morning, slaving for bread, sir,
So that every mouth can be fed.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
My wife and my kids,
they are packed up and leave me.
Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
Shirt them a-tear
up, trousers are gone.
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
After a storm there
must be a calm.
They catch me in the farm. You sound the alarm.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.
Poor me, the
Israelite.
I wonder who I'm working for.
Poor me, Israelite,
I look a-down and out, sir.
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