The Israelites Songtext
von Desmond Dekker

Get up in the morning
Slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth
Can be fed
Poor me, the Israelite
Get up in the morning
Slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth
Can be fed
Poor me, the Israelite
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
Shirt them a-tear up
Trousers are gone
I don′t want to end up
Like Bonnie and Clyde
Poor me, the Israelite


After a storm
There must be a calm
They catch me in the farm
You sound the alarm
Poor me, the Israelite
Get up in the morning
Slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth
Can be fed
Poor me, the Israelite
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
Shirt them a-tear up
Trousers are gone
I don't want to end up
Like Bonnie and Clyde
Poor me, Israelite
After a storm
There must be a calm
They catch me in the farm
You sound the alarm
Poor me, Israelite
Poor me, Israelite
Poor me, Israelite
Poor