The working man

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.