The men say they shall, so help their bob;
The masters say the men are wrong,
But the men say they are too strong,
So I suppose they must settle it themselves among,
This strike of the journeymen Tailors,
The sleeveboard and goose may idle lay,
The needle and bobkin is stowed away,
Oh, is there not the devil to pay,
Thro’ the strike of the Journeyman Tailors
Now ever since the world began,