Weekend Glory

Some clichty folksdon't know the facts,posin' and preenin'and puttin' on acts,stretchin' their backs.

They move into condosup over the ranks,pawn their soulsto the local banks.

Buying big carsthey can't afford,ridin' around townactin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life rightthey ought to study me on Saturday night.

My job at the plantain't the biggest bet,but I pay my billsand stay out of debt.

I get my hair donefor my own self's sake,so I don't have to pickand I don't have to rake.

Take the church money outand head cross townto my friend girl's housewhere we plan our round.

We meet our men and go to a jointwhere the music is blueand to the point.

Folks write about me.

They just can't seehow I work all weekat the factory.

Then get spruced upand laugh and

And turn away from worrywith sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'from day to day,but who are they kiddin'?

So are they.

My life ain't heavenbut it sure ain't hell.

I'm not on topbut I call it swellif I'm able to workand get paid rightand have the luck to be Blackon a Saturday night.