The Four Loom Weaver
I’m a four loom weaver, as many a one knows
I’ve nowt to eat and I’ve worn out my clothes
My clogs are all broken, and stockings I’ve none
And you’d scarce give me tuppence for all I’ve got on
Oh, Billy O’Begg, he’s been telling me long
We’d have better times if I’d no but hold my tongue
Well I’ve holden my tongue ’til I’ve near lost my breath
And I fear in my heart that we’ll soon clem to death
We held on for six weeks, thought each day was our last
We tarried and shifted ’til we were quite fast
We lived upon nettles when nettles were good
And Waterloo porridge was the best of our food
Oh, Margaret, she said if she’d clothes to put on
She’d go up to London to see the great man
And if times didn’t change after there she had been
Oh, she swore in her heart there’d be blood up to the end
I’m a four loom weaver as many a one knows
I’ve nowt to eat and I’ve worn out my clothes
My clogs are all broken, I’ve no looms to weave on
And I’ve woven myself to far end
– English Traditional
Glossary
Clem: to be hungry, to make someone or an animal hungry
Nowt: nothing
Waterloo porridge: thin oatmeal gruel