A dollar an hour, eight hours a day Will soon make a young man wither away I work for my family with my wrinkled hands For I'm a small time laboring man. Six long days each week I toil and I sweat But on Sunday my family gives me comfort and rest Then again Monday morning I'll make tracks in the sand For I'm a small time laboring man. I'm a small time laboring man Fighting against trying as hard as I can I fight for my country with my caloused hands For I'm a small time laboring man. Twelve long months each year my life stays the same Making my honest dollar in the sun, snow and rain No, you don't see my family on the starvation plan For I'm a small time laboring man...