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作曲 : Traditional |
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The summer was over the season unkind |
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In harvest a snow, how uncommon to find |
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The times were oppressive and well be it known |
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That hunger will stronger starve fences break down |
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'Twas then from themselves the black gentry stepped out |
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With bludgeons determined to stir up a rout |
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The prince of the party who revelled from home |
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Was a terrible fellow and called Irish Thom |
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He brandished his bludgeon with dexterous skill |
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And close to his elbow was placed Barley Will |
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There instantly followed a numerous train |
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As cheerful as bold Robin Hood's merry men |
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Sworn to remedy a capital fault: |
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Bring down the exorbitant price of the malt |
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From Dudley to Walsall they trip-ped along |
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And Hampton was truly alarmed at the throng |
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Women and children wherever they go |
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Shouting out 'Oh the brave Dudley boys! Oh!' |
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With nailers and spinners the cavalcade joined |
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The markets to lower their flattering design |
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Six days out of seven poor nailing boys get |
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Little else at their meals but potatoes to eat |
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For bread hard they labour, good things never carve |
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And swore 'twere as well to be hanged as to starve |
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Such are the feelings in every land |
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Nothing necessities call can withstand |
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And riots are certain to sadden the year |
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When six penny loaves are three pound as up here |
