Songtext Cash talkin' (the workingman's blues) Albert Collins

Cash talkin' (the workingman's blues)

Well I walked down to my bank, just to see what I could see
I asked the man behind the desk, I say "Ah, is there any money for me?"
Now he didn't know just what to say
I say, "I need that money in a terrible way!"
Now he didn't say "yeah" but he didn't say "no"
He just shook my hand and showed me the door

Oh Lord, the blues is killin' me
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord, these blues is killin' me
Yes sir

Now my wife loves money and it bothers my mind
She runs to the store and she buys, on time
T.V's, radios, stereos and I got all kind a princess phones
A one of these days, ya'all-a, I think they all gonna be gone

My baby need clothes, my wife needs a car
It's a wonder ya'all ha, I got this far! Hey!
Landlord knockin', and he wants some rent
Now I'm lookin' for the money that my wife just spent

Oh Lord, um-hm, the blues is killin' me
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord, these blues is killin' me
Tellin' ya

Tax time, ain't nothin' but a mess
Payin' Uncle Sam more an' I'm gettin' less
The po' stay po' and the rich stay rich
An' I'm right here in the middle
Now ain't that a.....!

Barely gettin' by, makes me mean
'Cause the politicians I'm payin', are livin' real clean
Step down Mister Politician, and live like I do
I want you to know, the workin' man blues

Oh Lord, oh Lord, these blues is killin' me
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord, these blues is killin' me

Payin' these taxes worry me to death...

Buyin' new T.V's an' radios an' stereos...

Baby needs clothes...

Wife need a old car to get around in...

Oh it's a bitch bein' po'...

I say it's a bitch bein' po...

Now ain't that a bitch?
Boy it's rough, I'll tell ya