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Maggie's Farm (In the Style of Bob Dylan)
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 Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com It is made out of bricks. The National Guard stands around his door. Ah, 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 twenty-four. I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
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 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.
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