“Step in, young man, I know your face,
It's nothing in your favour.
A little time I'll give to you:
Six months unto hard labour.”
Chorus (after each verse):
To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day,
To me Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!
At six o'clock our turnkey comes in,
With a bunch of keys all in his hand.
“Come, come, my lads, step up and grind.
Tread the wheel till breakfast time.”
At eight o'clock our skilly comes in,
Sometimes thick and sometimes thin,
But devil a word we must not say
Or it's bread and water all next day.
At half past eight the bell doth ring.
Into the chapel we must swing,
Down on our bended knees to fall.
The Lord have mercy on us all.
At nine o'clock the jangle rings.
All on the trap, boys, we must spring.
“Come, come, my lads, step up in time,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind.”
Now Saturday's come, I'm sorry to say,
Sunday is our starvation day.
Our hobnail boots and tin mugs too,
They are not shined nor they will not do.
Now six long months are over and past,
And I will return to my bonny, bonny lass.
I'll leave them turnkeys all behind,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind,