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.
