Poor Man Songtext
von Frank Proffitt

I worked all the wintertime
I worked through the spring
I planted my corn and taters
Then it wouldn′t rain

There's not a thing for a poor man
In this world

I stood on that hillside
I looked at the sky
Lord, I said, "What makes you let it get so dry?"

There′s not a thing for a poor man
In this world


I got down on my knees
For rain, I thought I'd pray
Along come a great big flood
Washed everything away

There's not a thing for a poor man
In this world

Hush up, honey
Now, don′t you cry
Things are gonna get better
By and by

There ain′t a thing for a poor man
In this world (Lord, have mercy)

I worked all that summer
I worked all that fall
Lord, I spent my Christmas
In a pile of overhauls

There ain't a thing for a poor man
In this world