The Folklords — The Slave lyrics

Lyrics

In her life seems to be no beauty
She’s an eight to five slave five days a week
She’s always thinkin' bout
What to buy for your birthday
Using her spending money to get you what you need
What was here crime
What was her punishment for
Why is it her, not I
She’s on her knees scrubbin'
Flowered patches
She’s walking 'round picking up my steps
She worries each day about my welfare
But keeps her troubles stored in her heart
Seems to me her songs
Have been sung before
Maybe she doesn’t consider it a crime at all
And maybe she likes doing it
Just for you