Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live , by - Bunk Johnson. Release date: 26.09.2005
Song language: English
How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live |
| Well, the doctor comes around with his face all bright |
| And he says in a little while you’ll be all right |
| All he gives is a humbug pill |
| A dose of dope and a great big bill |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| Well there once was a time when everything was cheap |
| But now prices nearly puts a man to sleep |
| When we get our grocery bill |
| We just feel like making our will |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| Prohibition’s good if 'tis conducted right |
| There’s no sense in shooting a man 'til he shows flight |
| Officers kill without a cause |
| Then they complain about the funny laws |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| (Additional stanzas in the original version:) |
| I remember when dry goods were cheap as dirt |
| We could take two bits and buy a dandy shirt |
| Now we pay ten bucks or more |
| Maybe get a shirt that another man wore |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| Well, I used to trade with a man by the name of Gray |
| Flour was fifty cents for a twenty-four pound bag |
| Now it’s a dollar and a half beside |
| Just like a-skinning off a flea for the hide |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| Oh, the schools we have today ain’t worth a cent |
| But they see to it that every child is sent |
| If we don’t send everyday |
| We have a heavy fine to pay |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| Most all preachers preach for gold and not for souls |
| That’s what keeps a poor man always in a hole |
| We can hardly get our breath |
| Taxed and schooled and preached to death |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| Oh, it’s time for every man to be awake |
| We pay fifty cents a pound when we ask for steak |
| When we get our package home |
| A little wad of paper with gristle and bone |
| Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? |
| Songwriter: Alfred Reed |