| I’m a working
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| On the line
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| Six days at a time
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| With a shovel and a spade
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| I’m digging for the shade
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| But I keep getting paid the same
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| Been working for a man and he likes my style
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| The more I sweat the more he smiles
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| The more I sweat the deeper I get
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| He’s driving this poor boy wild
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| I can’t live no good on what I get paid
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| I know trouble’s just a poor man’s claim to fame
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| But the prices keep rising every day
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| And I keep getting paid the same
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| I get up every mornin' 'bout half past six
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| Drink a pot a' coffee just to load a ton of bricks
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| Long about noon, I’m thinkin' that soon
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| You’re gonna work this poor boy sick
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| I can’t buy beans on what I get paid
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| I was cooking biscuits when the bill collector came
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| And the prices keep rising everyday
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| And I keep getting paid the same
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| I lay down my hammer when the whistle sounds
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| I bury my shovel in the deep deep ground
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| I run to my home to see my honey comb
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| When that evening sun goes down
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| I can’t live to good on what I get paid
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| My roof’s got a hole and It’s looking like rain
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| And the prices keep rising everyday
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| And I keep getting paid the same |