Rigs Of The Time 歌詞

Here's to the baker, I must bring him in Charges tuppence a loaf, and he'll think it's no sin When he do bring it in, it's no bigger than your fist And the top of the loaf has popped off with the yeast Honesty's all out of fashion These are the rigs of the times, times me boys These are the rigs of the times Here's to the butcher, I must bring him in He charges fourpence a pound, and he'll think it's no sin Slaps his hand on the scale weight and makes it go down He'll swear it's good weight but it wants half a pound Honesty's all out of fashion These are the rigs of the times, times me boys These are the rigs of the times Here's to the tailor who skimps on our clothes And the shoemaker who pinches our toes So our bellies go empty, our backsides go bare It's no wonder we've reason to curse and to swear Honesty's all out of fashion These are the rigs of the times, times me boys These are the rigs of the times [instrumental] Now the very best thing that the people could find Is to hold them aloft in a high gale of wind And the wind it will blow, and the cloud it will burst And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first Honesty's all out of fashion These are the rigs of the times, times me boys These are the rigs of the times