Rigs Of The Time

Rigs Of The Time - Bellowhead

Written by：trad./arr. Jon Boden

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

When 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

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