Step in, young man, I know your face,
It's nothing in your favour.
A little time I'll give to you:
Six months unto hard labour.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh
It's nothing in your favour.
A little time I'll give to you:
Six months unto hard labour.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh
At six o'clock our turnkey comes in,
Wit h a bunch of keys all in his hand.
Come, come, my lads, step up and grind.
Tread the wheel 'til breakfast time.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
Wit h a bunch of keys all in his hand.
Come, come, my lads, step up and grind.
Tread the wheel 'til breakfast time.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
At eight o'clock our skilly comes in,
Sometimes thick and sometimes thin,
But devil a word we must not say
It's bread and water all next day.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
Sometimes thick and sometimes thin,
But devil a word we must not say
It's bread and water all next day.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
At Half past eight the bell doth ring.
Into the chapel we must swing,
Down on our bended knees to fall.
The Lord have mercy on us all.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
Into the chapel we must swing,
Down on our bended knees to fall.
The Lord have mercy on us all.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
At nine o'clock the jangle rings.
All on the trap, boys, we must spring.
Come, come, my lads, step up in time,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
All on the trap, boys, we must spring.
Come, come, my lads, step up in time,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
Now Saturday's come, I'm sorry to say,
Sunday is our starvation day.
Our hobnail boots and tin mugs too,
They are not shined nor they will not do.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
Sunday is our starvation day.
Our hobnail boots and tin mugs too,
They are not shined nor they will not do.
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
Now six long months are over and past,
I will return to my bonny bonny lass,
I'll leave-the turnkeys an behind,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind,
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
I will return to my bonny bonny lass,
I'll leave-the turnkeys an behind,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind,
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To my Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
song info:
सत्यापित yes
भाषा: हिन्दीअंग्रेज़ी
शैलीEthnic/Folk
पद−
समयांतराल
चार्ट
कॉपीराइट ©
लेखक
गाने के बोल लाइसेंस द्वाराLyricFind
जोड़ाMarch 26th, 2020
आखरी अपडेटMarch 5th, 2022
के बारे में