The Nits - Poor Man's Pound lyrics

A rich man's work always gets done He spends his days out in the sun Trusting the figures in the morning paper Your sweat - the oil in his machine You are the eyelid of his dreams He knows his ten commandments: Use your neighbours Love their labour The poor man's pound is all you get No matter what you try, it's dead You've learned to write your name So sign these papers Love your neighbours