The working man

(J. Fogerty) 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