| A | G | D | G | A | |
| Well, | I'm just a Workin' Man's Dollar In the pocket of his old blue |
| jeans |
| A | G | D | G | A | |
| I ain' | t like my Wall Street brother He's in a bank so shiny and |
| clean |
| A | G | D | G | A | |
| Well, | I'm faded and I'm wrinkled Tattered and stained with |
| sweat |
| A | G | D | A | |
| But I'm the 1st one cal | led when Uncle Sam Needs a hand with the |
| National Debt |
| A | G | D | G | A | |
| I've b | een wages for the farm hand For drivin' an old John |
| Deere |
| G | D | G | A | |
| I've b | een laid on a bar in a tavern To buy a workin' man an |
| ice-cold beer |
| G | D | A | |
| I've been tipped to | a truck-stop waitress Taped where I |
| was torn |
| G | D | A | |
| And in the hand | of a child I was laid on a plate In a church on Sunday |
| morn |
| CHORUS: |
| D | A | |
| They s | ay I'm the root of all evil I bring lu | st, power and |
| greed |
| G | D | A | |
| But this Workin' Ma | n's Dollar only buys the things A workin' man really |
| needs |
| Verse: |
| A | G | D | G | A | |
| Well, | they say I'm worth about fifty-cents In this modern |
| inflated age |
| A | G | D | G | A | |
| But do | n't tell that to the young man slavin' To make it on a |
| minimum wage |
| A | G | D | G | A | |
| Or tha | t single workin' mother She's been scapin' to make |
| ends meet |
| G | D | A | |
| To make a house a ho | me Keep food on the table And shoes on her |
| baby's feet |
| A | G | D | G | A | |
| Well, | I know my days are numbered I'm gettin' threadbare and |
| wearin' thin |
| A | G | D | A | |
| And they'll | replace me with another But I'd do it all |
| again |
| A | G | |
| Cuz I've seen this great big cou | ntry |
| D | A | |
| Passed from ha | nd to callused ha | nd |
| A | G | |
| And I've got to say that I'm mig | hty proud |
| D | G | A | |
| That I bel | ong to a wor | kin' ma | n |
| REPEAT CHORUS |