| Some folks are born made to wave the flag | 
| Ooh, that red, white and blue | 
| And when the band plays "Hail to the chief" | 
| Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me; | 
| I ain't no fortunate one, no | 
| Some folks are born silver spoon in hand | 
| Lord, don't they help themselves, oh | 
| But when the taxman comes to the door | 
| Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me; | 
| I ain't no fortunate one, no | 
| Some folks inherit star spangled eyes | 
| Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord | 
| And when you ask them, "How much should we give?" | 
| Ooh, they only answer "More! More! More!" | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son, son | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me; | 
| I ain't no fortunate one, no | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no no no | 
| It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no no no |