You working men of England one moment now attend
While I unfold the treatment of the poor upon this land
For nowadays the factory lords have brought the labor low
And daily are contriving plans to prove our overthrow
So arouse you sons of freedom the world seems upside down
They scorn the poor man as a thief in country and in town
There’s different parts in Ireland it’s true what I do state
There’s hundreds more are starving for they can’t get food to eat
And if they go unto the rich to ask them for relief
They bang the door all in their face as if they were a thief
(Chorus)
Alas how altered are the times rich men despise the poor
And pay them off without remorse quite scornful at the door
And if a man is out of work his Parish pay is small
It’s enough to starve himself his wife his children and all
(Chorus)
So to conclude and finish these few verses I have made
I hope to see before too long men for their labor paid
Then we’ll rejoice with heart and voice and banish our woes
But before we do old England must pay us what she owes.
supported by 10 fans who also own “Song on the Times”
Powerful collection rooted in the stories that must be re-told. Played by some of the most generous community music people I’ve met during my foray into Old Time music.
This CD is a keeper! Ellen B. (Elly) Marshall
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