Come all ye true sons of Erin, attend to these few nimble lines I'll sing you a song about spinning, it was a good trade in its time. Some they spun worsted and yarn, and others they spun flax and tow By experience, my friends, you can learn how the wheels of the world how they go.
William Pitt he was a great spinner, and so was Lord Castlereagh. They spun the Union for Ireland; to England they shipped it away. Poor Pitt spun out his existence, then took a long trip on a boat. Lord Castlereagh saved the distance, by cutting the rim of his throat.
Napoleon he was a great spinner, he freedom did always advance. Over deserts and high lofty mountains, he marched the brave sons of France. Old Wellington he went a-spinning, his wheels they were at Waterloo; But if Grouchy had never been bribed, the French would have split him in two.
John Mitchell, a true son of Erin, declared that a spinner he'd be. He set all the wheels in motion his dear native land to set free. But John Bull, that crafty old tyrant, at spinning he was fully bent And to Van Dieman's Land the sons of old Ireland were sent.
The factory owners are spinning, their wheels are turning away. Now they are wanting their hands to work thirteen hours a day. They don't give a fig for the poor, they heed not their sighs or their moans, Don't give a pin if you work 'til you spin all the flesh off your bones.
The rich they are all famous spinners, of that we are all very sure. They're always contriving a scheme to crush down the rights of the poor. If you're compelled to go spinning, let each of your spindles be steel. Let liberty then be your motto, and glory will turn your big wheel.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
