Four Loom Weaver

I'm a four-loom weaver as many a man knows
I've nowt to eat and I've worn out me clothes
My clogs are both broken and stockings I've none
You'd scarce give me tuppence for owt I've gotten on

Old Billy o't' Bent he kept telling me long
We might have better times if I'd just hold my tongue
I've holden me tongue till I've near lost my breath
And I feel in me own heart I'll soon starve to death

I'm a four-loom weaver as many a one knows
I've nowt to eat and I've worn out me clothes
Old Billy's alright, he never were clem
And he never picked o'er in his life again

We held on for six weeks, thought each day were the last
We've tarried and shifted till now we're quite fast
We lived upon nettles while nettles were good
And Waterloo porridge was the best of our food

I'm a four-loom weaver as many a man knows
I've nowt to eat and I've worn out me clothes
Me clogs are both broken, no looms to weave on
And I've woven meself to far end