Well, you wake up in the mornin',
you hear the work bell ring
And they march you to the table,
you see the same old thing
Ain't no food upon the table,
and no pork up in the pan
But you better not complain, boy,
you get in trouble with the man
how in the world did you know?
By the way she wears her apron,
Umbrella on her shoulder,
piece of paper in her hand
She come to see the governor,
If you're ever in Houston,
well, you better do the right
there, you better not fight, at all
Or the sheriff will grab ya
and the boys will bring you down
The next thing you know, boy,
