I'm a four loom weaver, as many a man knows
I've nowt to eat and I've worn out m' clothes
M' clogs are all broken, and stockings I've none
Thee'd hardly gi's tuppence for all I've gotten on

Old Billy O' Bent, he were telling us long
We mayn't had better times if I'd nobbut held m' tongue
Well, I held m' tongue til I near lost m' breath
And I feel in m' hear that I'll soon clem to death

I'm a four loom weaver, as many a man knows
I've nowt to eat and I've worn out m' clothes
Old Billy were right, but he ne'er were clemmed
He ne'er picked o'er in his liie

We held out for six weeks, thought each day were the last
We tarried and shifted til we were quite fast
We lived upon nettles while nettles were good
And Waterloo Porridge were best to us (as) food

Our Margaret declares, if hoo'd clothes to put on
She hoo'd go up t' London and see the great man
And if things didn' alter when there hoo'd been
Hoo' swears hoo'd fight til there blood up to th' e'en

I'm a four loom weaver as many a man knows
I've nowt to eat and I've worn out m' clothes
Stockings I've none, nor looms to weave on
I've woven m'sen to far end