Ordained I was a beggar,
And have no cause to swagger;
It pierces like a dagger,
To think I'm thus forlorn.
My trade or occupation
Was ground for lamentation,
Which makes me curse my station,
And wish I'd ne'er been born.

Of slaving I am weary,
From June to January;
To nature it's contrary,
This, I presume, is fact.
Although, without a stammer,
Our Nell exclaims I clam her,
I've wield my six-pound hammer
Till I am grown round-backed.

I'm debtor to a many,
But cannot pay one penny;
Sure I've worse luck than any,
My sticks are marked for sale.
My creditors may sue me,
And curse the day they knew me;
The bailiffs may pursue me,
And lock me up in jail.

As negroes in Virginia,
In Maryland or Guinea,
Like them I must continue
To be both bought and sold.
While negro-ships are filling
I ne'er can save one shilling,
And must, which is more killing,
A pauper die when old.

My troubles never ceased,
While Nell's bairn-time increased;
While hundreds I've rehearsed,
Ten thousand more remain;
My income for me, Nelly,
Bob, Tom, Poll, Bet and Sally,
Could hardly fill each belly,
Should we eat salt and grains.

At every week's conclusion
New wants bring fresh confusion,
It is but mere delusion
To hope for better days;
While knaves with power invested,
Until by death arrested,
Oppress us unmolested
By their infernal ways.

An hanging day is wanted;
Was it by justice granted,
Poor men distressed and daunted
Would then have cause to sing:
To see in active motion
Rich knaves in full proportion,
For their unjust extortion
And vile offences, swing.