How do I start my sorry tale I know not
When will this curse end I know not
Oh the brutality, Oh the brutes
Who stole our days of freedom ?
When all was gay and frolic
When the sun beated upon our backs but we cared not
When we ran naked feet in the sun and we cared not.
Oh the brutes,Oh the brutality
when they made us work we should have not.
When they worked us till we were wasted and not,
But not,a cry did they hear for they cared not .
And soon they brought in after us a new lot
To enthrall,to rob,to waste and then throw away
Curse those who stole
Our freedom,our childhood
And made us labour,what could
What can,we do but follow,to save a flogging?
Just in hope to see tomorrow morning
With the hope of half a slice o' bread
Half a slice half a slice o' bread
Or just a pinch of 'taminated water?
And they say it's just good business
When we know it's called as child-labor .
