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.