Maggie's Farm - Tim O'Brien

I ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.

No, i ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.

Well, i wake in the morning,

Fold my hands and pray for rain.

I got a head full of ideas

That are drivin' me insane.

It’s a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.

I ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.

I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s brother no more.

No, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s brother no more.

Well, he hands you a nickel,

He hands you a dime,

He asks you with a grin

If you’re havin' a good time,

Then he fines you every time you slam the door.

I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s brother no more.

I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s pa no more.

No, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s pa no more.

Well, he puts his cigar

Out in your face just for kicks.

His bedroom window

It is made out of bricks.

The national guard stands around his door.

Ah, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s pa no more.

I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s ma no more.

No, i ain’t gonna work for maggie’s ma no more.

Well, she talks to all the servants

About man and god and law.

Everybody says

She’s the brains behind pa.

She’s sixty-eight, but she says she’s twenty-four.

I ain’t gonna work for maggie’s ma no more.

I ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.

No, i ain’t gonna work on maggie’s farm no more.

Well, i try my best

To be just like i am,

But everybody wants you

To be just like them.

They sing while you slave and i just get bored.