| I ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.
|
| No, i ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.
|
| Well, i wake in the morning,
|
| Fold my hands and pray for rain.
|
| I got a head full of ideas
|
| That are drivin' me insane.
|
| It’s a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
|
| I ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.
|
| I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s brother no more.
|
| No, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s brother no more.
|
| Well, he hands you a nickel,
|
| He hands you a dime,
|
| He asks you with a grin
|
| If you’re havin' a good time,
|
| Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
|
| I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s brother no more.
|
| I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s pa no more.
|
| No, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s pa no more.
|
| Well, he puts his cigar
|
| Out in your face just for kicks.
|
| His bedroom window
|
| It is made out of bricks.
|
| The national guard stands around his door.
|
| Ah, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s pa no more.
|
| I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s ma no more.
|
| No, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s ma no more.
|
| Well, she talks to all the servants
|
| About man and god and law.
|
| Everybody says
|
| She’s the brains behind pa.
|
| She’s sixty-eight, but she says she’s twenty-four.
|
| I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s ma no more.
|
| I ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.
|
| No, i ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.
|
| Well, i try my best
|
| To be just like i am,
|
| But everybody wants you
|
| To be just like them.
|
| They sing while you slave and i just get bored. |