Put It on the Ground
Oh! If you want a raise in pay, I'll tell you what to do
Go and ask the boss for it and he will give it to you
He will give it to you, my boys, he will give it to you
A raise in pay, without delay, oh, he will give it to you
Ohhh, put it on the ground, spread it all around
Dig it with a hoe: it will make your flowers grow
For the men who own the industries I'm shedding bitter tears
They haven't made a single dime in over thirty years
In over thirty years, my boys, in over thirty years
Not one thin dime in all that time, in over thirty years
The cost of living ain't so high, I told my wife Miranda
This talk of living being hard is Rooshian propaganda
It's Rooshian propaganda, boys, just Rooshian propaganda
From Molotov to Simonov, just Rooshian propaganda
It's fun to work on holidays, or when the day is done;
Why should they pay us overtime for having so much fun?
For having so much fun my boys, for having so much fun.
Pay overtime would be a crime for having so much fun. Ohhh...
The men who own the industries, they own no bonds and stocks
They own no yachts and limousines, or gems the size of rocks.
They own no big estates with pools, or silken B.V.D.'s,
Because they pay the working man such fancy salaries. Ohhh....
copyright
JN
oct96
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!