When rich fowk are feastin, an poor fowk are grooanin,
Ther's summat 'at connot be reight.
Wol one lot are cheerin, another lot's mooanin
For want ov sufficient to ait.
Ther must be a screw lawse i'th' social machine,
An if left to goa on varry long,
Ther'll as sewer be a smash as befoortime ther's been,
When gross wrangs ov thooas waik mak em strong.
Discontent may long smolder, but aght it'll burst,
In a flame 'at ther efforts will mock;
An they'll leearn when too lat, 'at they've met the just fate,
Ov thooas who rob th' poor o' ther jock.