Текст песни The Israelites - The Jamaican Reggae Boys

Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor, the Israelite

Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor, the Israelite

Wife and my kids, they packed up and leave me
"Darling," she said, "I was yours to receive"
Poor, the Israelite

Shirt them a-tear up, trousers are gone
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde
Poor, the Israelite

After a storm, there must be a calm
They catch me in ya farm, you sound your alarm
Poor, the Israelite (yee)

Said, I get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor, the Israelite, ah

I said, my wife and my kids, they packed up and leave me
"Darling," she said, "I was yours to receive me"
Poor, the Israelite, ah

Look, shirt them a-tear up, trousers are gone
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde
Poor, the Israelite, ah

After a storm, there must be a calm
They catch me in ya farm, you sound your alarm
Poor, the Israelite, ah

Poor, the Israelite
Poor...