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Poverty

Bobby Bland

Up every morning with the sun,
I work all day 'til the evening comes
Busters and corns all in my hands
Lord, have mercy on a working man
I guess I'm gonna die, just like I live, in poverty
My pay goes down and my tax goes up
I drink my tea from a broken cup
Between my woman and uncle Sam,
I can't figure out just what I am
I guess I', gonna die, just like I live, in poverty
Oh Lord, it's so hard