turn soft and slow And though I look rough outside she knows What?s inside of this heart of mine Oh, that?s workin? man Yeah, that's workin' man, that's workin' man
, whoa, I?m a working man I work on pistons and rings, carburetors and sing a little Walk This Way, on the radio I like my beer in a can, football and chewing Red Man
on my shirt A little grease, a little dirt But it's okay she likes it that way Yeah oh whoa, I'm a workin' man I work on pistons and rings Carburetors
Перевод: Виски Фолс. Рабочая Человек.
too early to know for certain This might be the heartache that don't stop hurting Man, I tried to kill the pain By shooting whiskey through my brain But it never works
?t know if I?m walking on solid ground Cause everything around me is falling down And all I want - is for someone - to help meee I had a job but the boss man
hey, man Here I am rocking the stage and shaking the stands with the punch of the drums the blast of the amps A sold out show every time I jam And hey, man
fall Ten thankless years of working hard The school bell rings the kids come home but you still feel like you're alone 'cause your husband holds his whiskey
and man to man, Shillelagh law was all the rage And a row and a ruction soon began. Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head When a noggin of whiskey flew
time away And talk about their homes And there's a girl in this harbor town And she works layin' whiskey down They say, "Brandy, fetch another round" She serves them whiskey
woman and man to man Shillelah-law was all the rage An a row and a ruction soon began Mickey Maloney raised his head When a bottle Of whiskey flew at
I worked for 22 years before I got laid off I want what I had when I laid down in the arms Of the woman that believed in me and that man I used to be
it serves a hundred ships a day Lonely sailors pass the time a way And talk about their homes Theres a girl in this harbor town And she works laying whiskey
in blood and half in shame Well I met a man on '32 and he stuck out his hand And he offered me a thousand if I'd fall before his man Well I said it
, he carried a hod See, he'd sort of a tipplin' way With love for the liquor poor Tim was born To help him a man with his work each day He'd a drop of
gray for every shade of blue That's the way that I see life If there was nothing wrong then there'd be nothing right And for this working man They say
