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.