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Chumbawamba

"Song on the Times" (karaoke)

"Song on the Times" (sheet music)


You working folk of England,

One moment now attend,

While I unfold the treatment

Of the poor upon this land,

For nowadays the fact'ry lords

Have brought the labor low

And daily are contriving plans

To prove our overthrow.

 

So arouse ye sons of freedom!

The world seems upside down.

They scorn the poor man as a thief

In country and in town.

 

There's diff'rent parts in Ireland,

It's true what I do state,

There's hundreds that are starving

For they can't get food to eat,

And if they go unto the rich

To ask them for relief,

They bang their door all in their face

As if they were a thief.

 

So arouse ye sons of freedom!

The world seems upside down.

They scorn the poor man as a thief

In country and in town.

 

Alas, how altered are the times?

Rich men despise the poor

And pay them off without remorse

Quite scornful at their door,

And if a man is out of work,

His parish pay is small:

Enough to starve himself, his wife,

His children and all.

 

So arouse ye sons of freedom!

The world seems upside down.

They scorn the poor man as a thief

In country and in town.

 

So to conclude and finish

These few verses I have made,

I hope to see before it's long

Men for their labor paid.

Then, we'll rejoice with heart and voice

And banish all our woes.

Before we do, Old England

Must pay us what she owes.

 

So arouse ye sons of freedom!

The world seems upside down.

They scorn the poor man as a thief

In country and in town.


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