The Working Man - текст песни
The Working Man
Well, I was born on a Sunday, on Thursday I had me a job.
I was born on a Sunday, by Thursday I was workin' out on the job.
I ain't never had no day off since I learned right from wrong.
Said, I was bad, I did something to her head.
Mama said I was bad, I did something to her head.
And poppa threw me out, ooh, said I gotta earn my own way.
I ain't never been in trouble,
I ain't got the time.
I don't mess around with magic, child.
What I got is mine.
Whatever you say, Lord, well, that's what I'm gonna do.
Whatever you say, well, that's what I'm gonna do
'cause I'm the working man, Lord, I do the job for you.
I ain't never been in trouble,
I ain't got the time.
I don't mess around with magic, child.
What I got is mine.
Every Friday, well, that's when I get paid.
Don't take me on Friday, Lord, 'cause that's when I get paid.
Let me die on Saturday night, ooh, before Sunday gets my head.
- John C. Fogerty
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