I’m a four loom weaver as many a man knows
I’ve naught to eat and I’ve worn out my cloths
My clogs are both broken and stockings I’ve none
Tha’d scarce give me twopence for all I’ve got on

Old Billy o’Bent he kept telling me long
We might have better times if I’d no but hold my tongue
Well I’ve holden my tongue ‘till I’ve near lost my breath
And I feel in my heart that I’ll soon clem to death

I’m a four loom weaver as many a man knows
I’ve naught to eat and I’ve worn out my cloths
Old Billy’s alreet thought he ne’er were clemmed
And he ne’er picked o’er in his life

We held on for six weeks, thought each day was the last
We’ve tarried and shifted ‘till now we’re quite fast
We’ve dined upon nettles, while nettles were good
And Waterloo Porridge were t’best o’us food

I’m a four loom weaver as many a man knows
I’ve naught to eat and I’ve worn out my cloths
My clogs are both broken and stockings I’ve none
Tha’d scarce give me twopence for all I’ve got on

Our Margaret declares if hoo’d cloths to put on
Hoo’d go up to London to see the great man
And if things didn’a alter when there hoo’d been
Hoo swears hoo’d fight with blood up t’theen

I’m a four loom weaver as many a man knows
I’ve naught to eat and I’ve worn out my clothes
Clogs we have none nor looms to weave on
And I’ve woven myself to the far end