1. ONEY



I dedicate this song to the workin' man
For ever' man that puts in
Eight or ten hard hours a day of work and toil and sweat
Always got somebody lookin' down his neck
Tryin' to get more out of 'im
Than he really ought to have to put in.

After twenty-nine long years of workin'
In this shop with Oney standin' over me
Today when that old whistle blows
I'll check in all my gear and I'll retire

The superintendent just dropped by and said
They'd planned my little get together
Then he said I'd never a made it
If old Oney hadn't held me to the fire.

I've seen him in my dreams at night
And woke up in the mornin' feelin' tired
And old Oney don't remember, when I came here
How he tried to get me fired
With his folded hands behind him
Every mornin' Oney waited at the gate
Where he'd rant and rave like I committed murder
Clockin' in five minutes late.

But today they'll gather 'round me
Like I've seen 'em do when any man retires
Then old Oney's gonna tell me
From now on I'm free to do what I desire

He'll present me with that little old gold watch
They give a man at times like this
But there's one thing he's not countin' on
Today's the day I give old Oney his.

I've been workin', buildin' muscles
Oney's just been standin' 'round a gettin' soft
And today about four-thirty
I'll make up for every good night's sleep I've lost
When I'm gone I'll be remembered
As the workin' man who put his point across
With a right hand full of knuckles
Cause today I show old Oney who's the boss.

Hmmmm! What time is it? Four thirty!
Hey, Oney!
Oney! Ha ha ha ha!







2. COUNTRY TRASH




I got a crib full of corn and a turnin' plow,
But the ground's too wet for the hopper now.
Got a cultivator and a doubletree,
A leather line for the haw and gee.
Let the thunder roll and the lightnin' flash,
I'm doin' alright for country trash.

I'm saving up dimes for a rainy day,
I got about a dollar laid away.
The wind's from the south and the fishing's good,
Got a potbelly stove a cord[3] of wood.
Mama turns the left-overs into hash,
I'm doin' alright for country trash.

I got a mackinaw[4] and a huntin' dog.
A cap I ordered from the catalog.
A big tall tree that shades the yard,
A big fat sow for the winter's lard.
Let the thunder roll and the lightnin' flash,
I'm doin' alright for country trash.

Well there's not much new ground left to plow,
And crops need fertilizin' now.
My hands don't earn me too much gold,
For security when I grow old.

But we'll all be equal under the grass,
And God's got a heaven for country trash.
And God's got a heaven for country trash.
I'll be doin' alright for country trash.