The Working Man

The Working Man

Creedence Clearwater Revival

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.

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."

[Chorus:]
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, and I do the job for you.

[Chorus]

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.

Written by J. FOGERTY
Published by CONCORD MUSIC GROUP, INC

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

Chat About This Song