The Federal Bus Conductor and the Old Lady
Now 'urry, Mrs New South Wales, and come along of us,
We're all a-goin' ridin' in the Federation 'bus.
A fam'ly party, don't you know -- yes, Queenslans's comin', too,
You can't afford it! Go along! We've kep' box seat for you.
The very one of all the lot that can afford it best,
You'll only have to pay your share the same as all the rest.
You say your sons is workin' men, and can't afford to ride!
Well, all our sons is workin' men, a-smokin' up outside.
You think you might be drove to smash by some unskilful bloke!
Well, ain't we all got necks ourselves? And we don't want 'em broke.
You bet your lofe we're not such fools but what we'll do our best
To keep from harm -- for harm to one is harm to all the rest.
Now, don't go trudgin' on alone, but get aboard the trap;
That basket, labelled "Capital", you take it in your lap!
It's nearly time we made a start, so let's 'ave no more talk:
You 'urry up and get aboard, or else stop out and walk.
We've got a flag; we've got a band; out 'orses travels fast;
Ho! Right away, Bill! Let 'em go! The old 'un's come at last!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Related quotes
Cant Afford To Do It
Written by james williamson.
Well, I wanna go out without tearing my bed, now
Ise so scared my baby quit n
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
And loose that girl of mine
Well she spend my money - buying me clothes
Shes done cheapest woman I ever did know n
So, I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
And loose that girl of mine
Yeah
Break:
I got a good friend from alabam
He tried to steal my chick I dont know how many time
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it, ah
I cant afford to do it
And loose that girl of mine, ah
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
I cant afford to do it
And loose that girl of mine, um
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song of the Republic
Sons of the South, awake! arise!
Sons of the South, and do.
Banish from under your bonny skies
Those old-world errors and wrongs and lies.
Making a hell in a Paradise
That belongs to your sons and you.
Sons of the South, make choice between
(Sons of the South, choose true),
The Land of Morn and the Land of E'en,
The Old Dead Tree and the Young Tree Green,
The Land that belongs to the lord and the Queen,
And the Land that belongs to you.
Sons of the South, your time will come –
Sons of the South, 'tis near –
The "Signs of the Times", in their language dumb,
Fortell it, and ominous whispers hum
Like sullen sounds of a distant drum,
In the ominous atmosphere.
Sons of the South, aroused at last!
Sons of the South are few!
But your ranks grow longer and deeper fast,
And ye shall swell to an army vast,
And free from the wrongs of the North and Past
The land that belongs to you.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Workin’ It Out
Well I've been spendin' my life lookin' for a shoulder
To rest my head when the nights get colder
But the days are gettin' longer and I'm gettin' older
Been long time workin' it out
I been a long time workin' it out I been a long time workin' it out
I been a long time workin' it out I been a long time workin' it out
Now I got a little woman to scrub my floor
Right down the road I got me two or three more
And you know none of them knows about the one next door
I been a long time workin' it out
I been a long time workin' it out...
Well it was late one night when I stole a little money
I bought a couple of things and then gave them to my honey
And the judge said boy if you this that's funny
You got a long time workin' it out
I got a long time workin' it out...
[ guitar ]
Yeah well I look all around me and what do I see
The whole wide world got trouble like me
Between the taxes the missus and the deep blue sea
You'll be a long time workin' it out
We'll be a long time workin' it out...
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Leave It Open
With my ego in my gut,
My babbling mouth would wash it up.
(but now Ive started learning how,)
I keep it shut.
My door was never locked,
Until one day a trigger come cocking.
(but now Ive started learning how,)
I keep it shut.
Wide eyes would clean and dust
Things that decay, things that rust.
(but now Ive started learning how,)
I keep em shut.
I keep em shut.
Harm is in us.
Harm is in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
(leave it open!)
Harm is in us, but power to arm.
Narrow mind would persecute it,
Die a little to get to it.
(but now Ive started learning how.)
I leave it open.
I kept it in a cage,
Watched it weeping, but I made it stay.
(but now Ive started learning how.)
I leave it open.
I leave it open.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
(leave it open!)
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
(leave it open!)
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Har in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us--
Harm in you and in me!
What you letting in?
Tell me what youre letting in.
Say what were gonna let in!
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Protest
I say 'e isn't Remorse!
'Ow do I know?
Saw 'im on Riccarton course
Two year ago!
Think I'd forget any 'orse?
Course 'e's The Crow!
Bumper Maginnis and I
After a "go",
Walkin' our 'orses to dry,
I says "Hello!
What's that old black goin' by?"
Bumper says "Oh!
That's an old cuddy of Flanagan's --
Runs as The Crow!"
Now they make out 'e's Remorse.
Well, but I know.
Soon as I came on the course
I says "'Ello!
'Ere's the old Crow."
Once a man's seen any 'orse,
Course 'e must know.
Sure as there's wood in this table,
I say 'e's The Crow.
(Cross-examied by the Committee.)
'Ow do I know the moke
After one sight?
S'posin' you meet a bloke
Down town at night,
Wouldn't you know 'im again when you meet 'im?
That's 'im all right!
What was the brand on 'is 'ide?
I couldn't say,
Brands can be transmogrified.
That ain't the way --
It's the look of a 'orse and the way that 'e moves
That I'd know any day.
What was the boy on 'is back?
Why, 'e went past
All of a minute, and off down the track.
-- "The 'orse went as fast?"
True, so 'e did! But my eyes, what a treat!
'Ow can I notice the 'ands and the seat
Of each bumble-faced kid of a boy that I meet?
Lor'! What a question to ast!
(Protest Dismissed)
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Urry
Now, Ma-til-der! Ain't cher dressed yet? I declare, the girl ain't up!
Last as ushul. Move yerself, you sleepy'-ead!
Are you goin' to lie there lazin',
W'ile I -- Nell, put down that basin;
Go an' see if Bill has got the poddies fed;
Tell 'im not to move that clucky -- ho, yer up, me lady, eh?
That's wot comes from gallivantin' lat ut night.
Why, the sun is nearly -- see now,
Don't chu dare talk back at me now!
Set the table, Nell! Where's Nell? Put out that light!
Now then, 'urry, goodness, 'urry! Mary, tell the men to come.
Oh there, drat the girl! MA-TIL-DER! where's the jam?
You fergot it? Well, uv all ther ...
Mary! 'Ear me tell you call ther ...
Lord! there's Baldy TANGLED IN THE BARB'-WIRE -- SAM!
Now, then, take 'er steady, clumsy, or she'll cut herself -- LEAVE OFF!
Do you want the cow to -- There! I never did!
Well, you mighter took 'er steady.
Sit up, Dad, yer late already.
Did ju put the tea in, Mary? Where's the lid?
Oh, do 'urry! Where's them buckets? Nell, 'as Bill brought in the cows?
Where's that boy? Ain't finished eatin' yet, uv course;
Eat all day if 'e wus let to.
Mary, where'd yer father get to?
Gone! Wot! Call 'im back! DAD! Wot about that 'orse?
No, indeed, it ain't my business; you kin see the man yerself.
No, I won't! I'm sure I've quite enough to do.
If 'e calls ter-day about it,
'E kin either go without it,
Or lest walk acrost the paddick out to you.
Are the cows in, B-i-ll? Oh, there they are. Well, nearly time they -- Nell,
Feed the calves, an' pack the -- Yes, indeed ju will!
Get the sepy-rater ready.
Woa, there, Baldy -- steady, steady.
Bail up. Stop-er! Hi, Matilder! MARY! BILL!
Well, uv all th' . . . Now you've done it.
Wait till Dad comes 'ome to-night;
When 'e sees the mess you've -- Don't stand starin' there!
Go an' get the cart an' neddy;
An' the cream cans - are they ready?
Where's the ... There! Fergot the fowls, I do declare!
Chuck! -- Chook! -- CHOOK! Why, there's that white un lost another chick to-day!
Nell, 'ow many did I count? -- Oh, stop that row!
Wot's 'e doin'? Oh, you daisy!
Do you mean to tell me, lazy,
Thet you 'aven't fed the pigs until jus' now?
Oh, do 'urry! There's the men ull soon be knockin' off fer lunch.
An' we 'aven't got the ... Reach that bacon down.
Get the billies, Nell, an' - Mary,
Go an' fetch the ... Wot? 'Ow dare 'e!
Bill, yer NOT to wear yer best 'at inter town!
'Ave you washed the things, Matilder? Oh, do 'urry, girl, yer late!
Seems to me you trouble more -- TAKE CARE! -- You dunce!
Now you've broke it! Well I never!
Ain't chu mighty smart an' clever;
Try'n to carry arf a dozen things at once.
No back answers now! You hussy! Don't chu dare talk back at me
Or I'll ... Nelly, did ju give them eggs to Bill?
Wot? CHU NEVER? Well I ... Mary,
Bring them dishes frum the dairy;
No, not them, the ... Lord, the sun's be'ind the hill!
'Ave you cleaned the sepy-rater, Nell? Well, get along to bed.
No; you can't go 'crost to Thompson's place to-night;
You wus there las' Chusday - See, miss,
Don't chu toss your head at me, miss!
I won't 'ave it. Mary, 'urry with that light!
Now then, get yer Dad the paper. Set down, Dad -- ju must be tired.
'Ere, Matilder, put that almanick away!
Where's them stockin's I wus darnin'?
Bill an' Mary, stop yer yarnin'!
Now then, Dad. Heigh-ho! Me fust sit down ter-day
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXI: It doesn't mean any harm
It may be provocative
It may be disturbing
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be rough
It may be emotional
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be wild
It may be rebellious
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may go unplanned
It may look careless
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a nuisance
It may be a mistake
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a mess
It may be complicated
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be slow progress
It may test the patience
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a hard blow
It may shake the faith
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be cursed
It may be judged cruel
But it doesn't mean any harm
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Dauntless Three
Chris Watson, of the Parliament,
By his Caucus Gods he swore
That the great Labor Party
Should suffer wrong no more.
By his Caucus Gods he swore it,
And named a trysting day,
And bade his Socialists ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.
East and west and south and north
The Socialists ride fast,
And every town in New South Wales
Has heard their trumpet's blast.
Shame to the false elector
Who lingers in his hole,
While Watson and his myrmidons
Are riding to the poll.
Then up spake brave Horatius Gould,
And a Liberal proud was he,
"Now, who will stand on either hand
And face the foe with me?"
Then out spake bold Herminius Millen,
And Walker out spake he,
"We will abide on either side
And win a seat with thee."
"'Tis well", quoth brave Horatuis,
"As thou sayest, so let it be."
And straight against the proletaire
Forth went the dauntless three.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Workin'
Up every mornin' before the sun
Takin' my lovin' on the run
Breakin' my back till the day is done
I'm gonna punch that time clock and have some fun
Ain't no easy way to get myself out
So-i keep on workin'
like a workin' man do
I gotta buy my baby shoes
I keep on workin'
It's the only thing to do
I make my livin by the sweat of my brow
Oh-workin' just like you-uh
I was raised on the poor side of town
I made my livin' movin' around
I never let no one dog me down
Oh i was taught to stand my ground
Life was always changin'
That's just the way it is
So-i keep on workin'
like a workin' man do
I got to buy my baby shoes
I keep on workin'
It's the only thing to do
I make my livin by the sweat of my brow
Oh-workin' just like you-uh
Oh oh oh oh-i keep on workin'
Ooh-i keep on workin'
like a workin' man do
I got to buy my baby shoes
I keep on workin'
It's the only thing to do
I make my livin by the sweat of my brow
Oh-i keep on workin'
like a workin' man do
I need to buy my baby shoes
I keep on workin'
It's the only thing to do
I make my livin by the sweat of my brow
Oh workin' just like you
Aaah ah ah ah aaah ah ah ah
I keep on workin'-workin'
I keep on workin'-workin'
I keep on workin'-workin'
I keep on workin'-workin'
Uh oh oh oh
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are The Same...
gas rices up,
fuel prices up,
grocery prices up,
heating prices up...
and the poor man's dollar
is still a dollar!
cant afford sickness,
cant afford hospitals,
cant afford shelter,
cant afford, cant afford.
it's time to band together
in small communities,
and be neighbors again.
we cannot rely on the government,
on churches, on the elite...
we have each other,
and that is all!
forget about differences.
skin color, religion, politics...
let it go.
we are the same!
same needs, same desires,
same prayers, same love...
red blooded, dirty, stinking
human beings...
human beings in need
of each other!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I shall hold you
I shall hold you back
I shall hold you back
As so much is at stake
Life is not simple cake
Whenever you like and take
Life is real
Come near and feel
It will make you fully secured
That is destiny and our future
You are made to feel
Love is divine and felt at will
"How and why" has no scope for doubt
It is all in love and we must talk about
The sky is vast and so is the world
You need to come and set in fold
You are safe with peace in wide arms
Without a single thought of any harm
Never think of running away
You will find no excuses for finding new way
You may try to run away but face high walls
You will look back to hear my sweet calls
"Keya*, Keya* to run away is cowardice
Retreat from commitment and honest promise
Where will you land in this unknown forest?
Will you be there for want of no interest?
I am here and permanently near
Come to me without any fear
I shall hold you till last or forever
Think not of running away ever
You have place to rest on my shoulder
They are well built and little wider
They can take care of your every comfort
Just anchor your ship at lovely port
Love is called love and almost pure
That makes a person very much sure
I, for one, can hardly afford
Your absence so I pray for you to Lord
*Keya is name
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Take The A Train
Come on down, lets take the a train
To take a little ride around the city.
Brooklyn or broadway train
Youll see that old new york is kind of pretty.
Take your baby subway ridin
Thats where romance may be hidin (lets take a ride)
Take, you should take the a train
To get to sugar hill way up in harlem.
Come on baby, climb aboard the a train
Thats the way to get to sugar hill in harlem
And if you get aboard the a train
Youll get to sugar hill and in a hurry.
Listen here, listen to the train a comin
Hear the rails a hummin (lets take a ride)
Climb aboard, climb aboard the a train
To take a little ride around the city.
(all aboard...)
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Bus (intro)
a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,j,k,lmno,p
haha, who's a rockstar? i am a rockstar...??hahahaha
(all aboard!)
bye, i love you
say goodbye to the magic bus..??
hahahahaha, somebody open the window
(all aboard!all aboard!)
DaddyX
so if your down the road with us, burn an ounce, take a hit come and go with
us. climb aboard take a step on the magic bus..were goin for a ride.hahaha
(byebye)
5,4,3,2,1...hold on tight
song performed by by Kottonmouth Kings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scorcher and the Howling Swell
The Scorcher and the Howling Swell were riding through the land;
They wept like anything to see the hills on every hand;
"If these were only levelled down," they said, "it would be grand."
"If every bloke that rides a bike put in a half-a-crown,
Do you suppose," the Scorcher said, "that that would cut them down?"
"I doubt it," said the Howling Swell, and frowned a doleful frown.
"Oh, ladies, come and ride with us," the Scorcher did entreat,
"A little ride across the park and down the smoothest street,
And you will have a chance to show your very dainty feet."
The Scorcher rode up all the hills, as if the same were flat;
"It's very rude," the ladies said, "to ride as fast as that;
For all of us are out of breath - and some of us are fat."
"Cheer up, cheer up, my ladies gay," the Howling Swell replied;
"Behold a tea-shop by the way, with Globe Brand Tea inside;
And all who drink the Globe Brand Tea up any hill can ride."
And every lady in the band revived on Globe Brand Tea,
That Atcherley and Dawson sell in George Street, near the Quay,
And Howling Swells and Scorchers both proclaim its purity.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Widow At Windsor
'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
There's 'er mark on the medical stores --
An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind
That takes us to various wars.
(Poor beggars! -- barbarious wars!)
Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor,
An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns,
The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces
O' Missis Victorier's sons.
(Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!)
Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,
For 'alf o' Creation she owns:
We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame,
An' we've salted it down with our bones.
(Poor beggars! -- it's blue with our bones!)
Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow,
Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop,
For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown
When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop"!
(Poor beggars! -- we're sent to say "Stop"!)
Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow,
From the Pole to the Tropics it runs --
To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file,
An' open in form with the guns.
(Poor beggars! -- it's always they guns!)
We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor,
It's safest to let 'er alone:
For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land
Wherever the bugles are blown.
(Poor beggars! -- an' don't we get blown!)
Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin',
An' flop round the earth till you're dead;
But you won't get away from the tune that they play
To the bloomin' old rag over'ead.
(Poor beggars! -- it's 'ot over'ead!)
Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow,
Wherever, 'owever they roam.
'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require
A speedy return to their 'ome.
(Poor beggars! -- they'll never see 'ome!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Railroad
Up each morning at five oclock,
Seem like the noon-day sun aint never gonna stop.
The work is hard in a railroad yard,
Hey, hey, gotta make it today to punch a time card.
Workin on the railroad.
Chorus
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
Dirt and sweat, runnin down my back,
Workin on the railroad.
Work all day long up and down the railroad tracks.
Workin on the railroad.
Im a God fearing man, and with many I stand,
Workin on the railroad.
And with God weve been working, all hand in hand.
Workin on the railroad.
Chorus
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Workin on the railroad.
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
Workin on the railroad.
Oh, you know, the railroad is a mighty good line,
Come on and ride the railroad, one more time.
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Late Husband (King's-Hintock, 182-.)
"No--not where I shall make my own;
But dig his grave just by
The woman's with the initialed stone -
As near as he can lie -
After whose death he seemed to ail,
Though none considered why.
"And when I also claim a nook,
And your feet tread me in,
Bestow me, under my old name,
Among my kith and kin,
That strangers gazing may not dream
I did a husband win."
"Widow, your wish shall be obeyed;
Though, thought I, certainly
You'd lay him where your folk are laid,
And your grave, too, will be,
As custom hath it; you to right,
And on the left hand he."
"Aye, sexton; such the Hintock rule,
And none has said it nay;
But now it haps a native here
Eschews that ancient way . . .
And it may be, some Christmas night,
When angels walk, they'll say:
"'O strange interment! Civilized lands
Afford few types thereof;
Here is a man who takes his rest
Beside his very Love,
Beside the one who was his wife
In our sight up above!'"
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Little Billee
Air--"il y avait un petit navire."
There were three sailors of Bristol city
Who took a boat and went to sea.
But first with beef and captain's biscuits
And pickled pork they loaded she.
There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy,
And the youngest he was little Billee.
Now when they got as far as the Equator
They'd nothing left but one split pea.
Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
"I am extreamely hungaree."
To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy,
"We've nothing left, us must eat we."
Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
"With one another we shouldn't agree!
There's little Bill, he's young and tender,
We're old and tough, so let's eat he.
"Oh! Billy, we're going to kill and eat you,
So undo the button of your chemie."
When Bill received this information
He sued his pocket handkerchie.
"First let me say my catechism
Which my poor mammy taught to me."
"Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jimmy,
While Jack pulled his snickersnee.
So Billy went up to the main-top gallant mast,
And down he fell on bended knee.
He scarse had come to the twelfth commandment
when up he jumps. "There's land I see:
"Jerusalem and Madagascar,
And North and South Amerikee;
There's the British flag a-riding at anchor,
With Admiral Napier, K.C.B."
So when they got aboard of the admiral's,
He hanged flat Jack and flogged Jimmee;
But as fro little Bill he make hime
The Captain of a Seventy-three
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Australian Slanguage
"Tis the everyday Australian
Has a language of his own,
Has a language, or a slanguage,
Which can simply stand alone.
And a "dickon pitch to kid us"
Is a synonym for "lie",
And to "nark it" means to stop it,
And to "nit it" means to fly.
And a bosom friend's a "cobber,"
And a horse a "prad" or "moke,"
While a casual acquaintance
Is a "joker" or a "bloke."
And his lady-love's his "donah"
or his "clinah" or his "tart"
Or his "little bit o' muslin,"
As it used to be his "bart."
And his naming of the coinage
Is a mystery to some,
With his "quid" and "half-a-caser"
And his "deener" and his "scrum".
And a "tin-back" is a party
Who's remarkable for luck,
And his food is called his "tucker"
Or his "panem" or his "chuck".
A policeman is a "johnny"
Or a "copman" or a "trap",
And a thing obtained on credit
Is invariably "strap".
A conviction"s known as "trouble",
And a gaol is called a "jug",
And a sharper is a "spieler"
And a simpleton's a "tug".
If he hits a man in fighting
That is what he calls a "plug",
If he borrows money from you
He will say he "bit your lug."
And to "shake it" is to steal it,
And to "strike it" is to beg;
And a jest is "poking borac",
And a jester "pulls your leg".
Things are "cronk" when they go wrongly
In the language of the "push",
But when things go as he wants 'em
He declares it is "all cush".
When he's bright he's got a "napper",
And he's "ratty" when he's daft,
And when looking for employment
He is "out o' blooming graft".
And his clothes he calls his "clobber"
Or his "togs", but what of that
When a "castor" or a "kady"
Is the name he gives his hat!
And our undiluted English
Is a fad to which we cling,
But the great Australian slanguage
Is a truly awful thing!
poem by William Thomas Goodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Workin For A Livin
Chris hayes / huey lewis
Somedays wont end ever and somedays pass on by,
Ill be working here forever, at least until I die.
Dammed if you do, dammed if you dont
Im supposed to get a raise week, you know damn well I wont.
Workin for a livin (workin)
Workin for a livin (workin)
Workin for a livin, livin and workin
Im taking what they giving cause Im working for a livin.
Hey Im not complaining cause I really need the work
Hitting up my buddys got me feeling like a jerk
Hundred dollar car note, two hundred rent.
I get a check on friday, but its all ready spent.
Workin for a livin (workin)
Workin for a livin (workin)
Workin for a livin, livin and workin
Im taking what they giving cause Im working for a livin.
Ooh, workin for a livin
Ooh, taking what they giving
Ooh, workin for a livin
Ooh, ooh
Bus boy, bartender, ladies of the night
Grease monkey, ex-junky, winner of the fight
Walking on the streets its really all the same
Selling souls, rock n roll, any other day
Workin for a livin (workin)
Workin for a livin (workin)
Workin for a livin, livin and workin
Im taking what they giving cause Im working for a livin.
Workin for a livin, livin and workin
Im taking what they giving cause Im working for a livin.
Workin for a livin, livin and workin
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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