Poverty Knock

Poverty Knock

Up every morning at five,
It’s a wonder that we’re still alive
Tired and yawning, in the cold morning
And back to the dreary old drive
Oh dear, we're going to be late
The gaffer is stood at the gate
We're out of pocket, our wages he'll dock it
We'll have to buy grub on the slate

And it’s poverty, poverty knock
My loom it is singing all day
Poverty, poverty knock
The gaffer’s too skinny to pay us
Poverty, poverty knock
With always one eye on the clock
And I know I can guttle
When I hear my shuttle go
Poverty, poverty knock

Oh how my poor heart it sings
I should have woven three strings
The threads they keep breaking, my poor heart is aching
Oh god, how I wish I had wings
Sometimes a shuttle flies out
And gives some poor woman a clout
There she lies bleeding but nobody's heading
Will nobody carry her out?

The tuner should see to my loom
But he'd rather sit on his bum
He's far too busy a-courting our Lizzie
I just can't up get him to come
And Lizzie’s so easily led
I reckon he takes her to bed
She always skinny, now look at her pinny:
It’s just about time they was wed

Trad, arr T Ashworth