Owd mon, as't at sit mi deawn.
Mi legs thiv varneer fawd off.
Mi feet are both warchin, wi runnin abeawt.
Un I think that wiv aw done enough.
Worreyer we do , they'll want moo'er.
Their rulin aw't factry wi fear.
I don't care eaw soon it gets orf past five.
Un then wi con gerr eawt of here.
Av neyer met no'bdy us likes it.
Un folk , they keep grip'in aw day.
They sey that were wark 'in ar fingers ter't bone.
Its not wuth it for what bosses pay.
But there's nowt that wi con do abeawt it.
We aw av fot carry ar load.
Thiv gett'n us aw ore a barr'ul.
Cos no bugger else pays thi road
|Hard Work (Translation)
Old man, I'll have to sit down.
My legs they have nearly fell off.
My feet are both aching with running about.
And I think we have all done enough.
Whatever we do , they'll want more.
They are ruling the factory with fear.
I don't care how soon it gets to 4 o clock.
And then we can get out of here.
I've never met anyone who likes it.
And folk they keep grumbling all day.
They say that we are working our fingers to the bone.
It's not worth it for what the company pay.
But there is nothing we can do about it.
We all have to carry our load.
They have got us all over a barrel.
For no-one else pay's your road.