The Harmonica Boss

As the sun goes up and the work begins

Everybody hits the fields except for him

But at least he gives encouragements from his seat on the fence

He’s a high horse son of a bitch

But the one with the dollar at the end of the day

So everybody tries to shine up his green shoes anyway

That harmonica boy bangs tunes as his men all sweat

Doin’ what they hate

Goin’ all astray

Making their world go black and red

“Real good,” he says, “for folks like you”

Now tell me, what’d you have ’em do

‘Cept go and rip this little shit one he ain’t never seen

But the good ol’ folks keep fists a-clean

Those wives and kids, see, they gotta eat

Just wait, one day we’ll throw his fat ass offa that seat

That harmonica boy bangs tunes as them men all bleed

Doin’ what they hate

Goin’ all astray

Nonetheless no choice but to work for Tweed

Well sun’s gone down and backs all broke

Just like those dropped-like-flies work folk

That fence just ‘bout gone black but one big grin

Although ol’ evil blindfolded him