Bob Dylan
앨범 : Bootleg Series, Vol. 7 : No Direction Home

I ain`t gonna work on Maggie`s farm no more.
No, I ain`t gonna work on Maggie`s farm no more.
Well, I wake up in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin` me insane.
It`s a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
I ain`t gonna work on Maggie`s farm no more.
I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s brother no more.
No, I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s brother no more.
Well, he hands you a nickel,
He hands you a dime,
He asks you with a grin
If you`re havin` a good time,
Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s brother no more.
I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s pa no more.
No, I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s pa no more.
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks.
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks.
The National Guard stands around his door.
I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s pa no more.
I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s ma no more.
No, I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s ma no more.
Well, she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law.
Everybody says
She`s the brains behind pa.
She`s sixty-eight, but she says she`s fifty -four.
I ain`t gonna work for Maggie`s ma no more.
I ain`t gonna work on Maggie`s farm no more.
I ain`t gonna work on Maggie`s farm no more.
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am,
But everybody wants you
To be just like them.
They sing while you slave and I just get bored.
I ain`t gonna work on Maggie`s farm no more