Poverty is hell and the angels are in Paradise

Driving in their limousine where everything is nice and clean

A poor man living in a teeny-weeny hut

The children hungry, nothing in the pot

He gone by the neighbour to beg for some rice

The neighbour under pressure, "Boy, things ent nice."

He gone in the big shot area to beg

A police put a bullet in his teeny-weeny leg

He gone in the courts and he lost the case

The prosecutor say he have a bandit face

Poverty is hell! Poverty is hell!

Wake up in the morning and the baby cry

The sugar pan empty, the milk bottle dry

The little boy child on the mango tree

The mango green, hurting up his belly

The young girl bawling, she wouldn’t settle

She wipe she bumsie with stinging nettle

Toilet paper they never had

They used to tootoo in the gully by the old backyard

They rub she down and they put she to sleep

The rain come down and the house does leak

Poverty is hell! Poverty is hell!

A poor man always dream a lot of dream

He happy like a puppy when he dream another dream

He dream that he have a new roof on the hut

He dream that he have some good food in the pot

He dream that he have a rich friend name Frank

He dream that he have a lot of cash in the bank

He dream that he pay all his bills for the month

He dream that he have a new car in the front

He dream that he have to go to a fete

He dream that his pocket have a big, fat wallet

He wake up in the night and he rush for his pants

All he found in the pocket was a whole lot of ants

Poverty is hell! Poverty is hell!

Ten little children, four dumplings

Mummy got to slice them thin, thin, thin

A piece for a boy and a piece for a girl

A piece for the neighbour daughter Merle

The cat in the corner looking to beg

Little Jack Horner kick him in the leg

Go in the room and look for a rat

The rat in the roof, he know about cat

Now the cat see a chickichong (yeh-yeh!)

He rush for the chickichong

But the poor little chickichong

Flew away like a chickichong

Then cockroach gone in the condensed milk

Mama get vex for she condensed milk

Who leave the condensed milk open?

“Come here you picky head, good for nothing!”

Mama get vex and she blood get hot

She buss some lash in they you-know-what

Poverty is hell! Poverty is hell!