| Step in young man, I know your face | 
| It’s nothing in your favor | 
| A little time I’ll give to you | 
| Six months unto hard labor | 
| With me hip, fol the day, me hip, fol the day | 
| Me hip, fol the day, fol the digee, oh | 
| At six o’clock the screw comes in | 
| A bunch of keys all in his hand | 
| Step up my lads, step up in time | 
| And tread the wheel 'til breakfast time | 
| With me hip, fol the day, me hip, fol the day | 
| Me hip, fol the day, fol the digee, oh | 
| And at eight o’clock the skilly comes in | 
| It’s sometimes thick and it’s sometimes thin | 
| And never a word dare we all say | 
| Or it’s bread and water all next day | 
| With me hip, fol the day, me hip, fol the day | 
| Me hip, fol the day, fol the digee, oh | 
| At half past eight the bell do ring | 
| And off to the chapel boys we must swing | 
| Down on our bended knees we fall | 
| The Lord have mercy on us all | 
| With me hip, fol the day, me hip, fol the day | 
| Me hip, fol the day, fol the digee, oh | 
| And at nine o’clock the jangle ring | 
| And all on the trap boys we must spring | 
| Step up my lads, step up in time | 
| The wheel’s to tread and the corn’s to grind | 
| With me hip, fol the day, me hip, fol the day | 
| Me hip, fol the day, fol the digee, oh | 
| Now Saturday’s come I am sorry to say | 
| For Sunday is starvation day | 
| Our hob-nail boots and our tin mugs too | 
| They are not shined and they will not do | 
| With me hip, fol the day, me hip, fol the day | 
| Me hip, fol the day, fol the digee, oh | 
| When six long months are gone and past | 
| Then I’ll return to my bonny, bonny lass | 
| I’ll leave the turnkeys all behind | 
| The wheel to tread and the corn to grind |