May we rock children,
to the music of creator.
Hey! May we rock children,
to the music of the ghetto. Yeah!

Don't just sit and cry,
little darlin' dry your eyes, I say.
Come down off the shelf,
come lively up yourself, my friend.

We no have known bread,
but we na go dead,
for the blessing of the Father,
will fall on his children.

May we rock children,
to the music of creator. Yeah!
Say, may we rock children,
to the music of the ghetto. Yeah!

Cost of living high
soon reach the sky
while we a go due
the rich man them a bawl
so why we feel safe
down here in the ghetto.

We no have known bread,
but we na go dead,
for the blessing of the Father,
will fall on his children.

Rock, rock, rock children,
to the music of the ghetto. Yeah!
Oh yeah!

May we rock children,
to the music of creator. Yeah!
May we rock children,
to the music of the ghetto. Yeah!

We no have known bread,
but we na go dead.
Say may we rock, rock, rock children,
to the music of creator. Oh yes!
Cost of living is so high
soon touch the sky now.