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From a poem by Robert W. Service with added lyrics by Bill Kostelec
(c) 2004 Working Man
When the long long day is over and the Big Boss gives me my pay
I hope it won’t be hellfire, like so many preachers say
And I hope it won’t be heaven with so many preachers I’ve met
All I want is a little quiet, to rest and to forget
Look at my face toil furrowed, look at my calloused hands
Master I’ve done your bidding, worked in so many lands
I’ve worked for those little masters, fat-bellied smug and rich
I’ve worm myself out for the son of a bitch and now I’ll die like a dog in a ditch.
I never quite made it through schooling, neither diploma nor degree
When I was young and twenty, I thought I was living free
But I always gave him an honest day’s labor, I took pride in the work that I done
Now the race is nearly over, I see the useless long circle I’ve run.
I’ve choked on the smoke in the factories, Dug in the mud in the rain
I’ve benumbed my mind on that damned assembly line to sleep with my aches and my pains
Now the factories are smoking in China, Somewhere else went the assembly lines, it’s a gray Winter morning and I’m out in the cold taking some comfort in this cheap red wine.
When the long long day is over and the Big Boss gives me my pay
I hope it won’t be hellfire, like so many preachers say
And I hope it won’t be heaven with so many preachers I’ve met
All I want is a little quiet, to rest and to forget
Look at my face toil furrowed, look at my calloused hands
Master I’ve done your bidding, worked in so many lands
I’ve worked for those little masters, fat-bellied smug and rich
I’ve worm myself out for the son of a bitch and now I’ll die like a dog in a ditch.
