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 aint never had no day off since I learned right from wrong.
Mama 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 aint never been in trouble;
I aint got the time.
I dont mess around with magic, child.
What I got is mine.
Whatever you say, lord, well, thats what Im gonna do.
Whatever you say, well, thats what Im gonna do.
cause Im the working man, lord, and I do the job for you.
Every friday, well, thats when I get paid.
Dont take me on friday, lord, cause thats when I get paid.
Let me die on saturday night, ooh, before sunday gets my head.