[Intro: Sam Cooke]
Hoh ah, hoh, I hear something saying
Hoh ah, hoh ah
Hoh ah, hoh ah
Well don't you know
That's the sound of the men
Working on the chain, gang
That's the sound of the men
Working on the chain, gang
All day long they're saying

[Verse 1: Danny Graft]
Wake up early, straight to site
Eight til six every day of their life
Clock hits ten might stop for a blem
Then have a little moan for the country's [?]
Freezing cold but the graft don't stop
Off down shop for the bits and bobs
Bird looks fit she's gonna get [?]
But looked straight back like who is this twat
That's the same bloke who built your house
Got no grades but a bag full of [?]
Bank full of debt and a woman who shouts
He ain't got the energy to take her out
Work dries up so he goes new places
Buying a paper that calls him a racist
Won't qualify for a state pension
Still he tried 'til he died of asbestos

[Chorus: Sam Cooke]
All day long they work so hard till the sun is going down
Working on the highways and byways and wearing, wearing a frown
Well don't you know
That's the sound of the men
Working on the chain, gang
That's the sound of the men
Working on the chain, gang
All day long they're saying
[Verse 2: Jonny Dutch]
He works all week for the one night out
Shits himself when he checks the account
Dreads every time that a Monday comes
Feels even worse when he flicks through a Sun
Stuck on a phone line all day long
Repeating himself in a room full of mugs
Fake smiles all the way 'cos you gotta play the game
Of polite exchanges to get through lunch
Grief off a bird that he took out once
Ain't had a beat in a good two months
Can't but a draw with a score to your name
So he gets no sleep but he's late every day
Saturday comes and his team just lost
Sat through the game with his fingers crossed
Swearing at tele while questioning God
With a snout in his mouth, did it all go wrong?

[Chorus: Sam Cooke]
I'm going home one of these days
I'm going home, see my woman
Whom I love so dear
But meanwhile, I gotta work right here
Well don't you know
That's the sound of the men
Working on the chain, gang
That's the sound of the men
Working on the chain, gang
All day long they're saying
[Verse 3: Scotty Stacks]
I'm an entrepreneur but I came from the bottom
They call me a scumbag call me a wrongun'
I was born here but they say that I'm foreign
And you know I speak well but they say that I'm common
I'm the boss I can never be a worker
Never had a job but I've always got an earner
Nine to five that's murder
And further, you've only got your head above the water
Make your weekly wage on a quarter
You're off to work and I'm off to the sauna
With a little Dorris and your sitting in an office
Or you're chilling on a train complaining 'bout Boris
Quick off the mark like Norris
Riding dirty but my ride's polished
Don't hate me 'cos I'm just being honest
Has your life got promise?

[Outro: Sam Cooke]
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my work is so hard
Give me water, I'm thirsty, my, my work is so hard
Woah oh
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my work is so hard