Song On the Times (Live)

You working men of England one moment now attend
 While I unfold the treatment of the poor upon this land
 For nowadays the factory lords have brought the labour low
 And daily are contriving plans to prove our overthrow
 So arouse! You sons of freedom! The world seems upside down
 They scorn the poor man as a thief in country and in town
 There's different 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! You 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 and wife, his children and all
 So arouse! You 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 labour 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! You sons of freedom! The world seems upside down
 They scorn the poor man as a thief in country and in town