IntroYou Don't Know What Hard Times Are, DaddyHard Times Are When The Textile Workers Around This Country Are Out Of WorkThey Got Four Or Five Kids And Can't Pay Their Wages, Can't Buy Their FoodHard Times Are When The Auto Workers Are Out Of Work And They Tell 'Em Go HomeAnd Hard Times Are When A Man Has Worked At A Job Thirty Years, Thirty YearsThey Give Him A Watch, Kick Him In The ButtAnd Say, "Hey, A Computer Took Your Place, Daddy"Verse 1This Place Don't Smell Like Winston's And Whiskey No MoreThе Feet Don't Creep And Creak The Hard Oak Of A Harmonious FloorAnd Grandma's Old Garden Ain't What It Usеd To BeThere's Rats On Tomatoes And Holes In The LeavesFell In The Yard Where Granddad Parked His CarBefore Driving Us To Drive-Ins And Breaking Our HeartsThem Quarters Quit Coming, That Engine Quit RunningAnd That Truck Just Stayed Sitting With Six Kids In The KitchenEven Though He Was Well-Trained, Well-Read, And Worked HardChorusThe Robot Killed The Working ManTook The Nail And Hammer Right Out Of His HandsSealed Up The Coffin, Sold Off The LandReplaced The Good Book With Machines In Their HandsSooner Or Later, More Soon Than NotThem Homegrown Tomatoes All Ripen Then RotWith No Rhyme Or Reason And No Helping HandThe Day The Robot Killed The Working ManVerse 2And This Place Don't Look Like What It Looked Like When I Was A KidCan't You See What A Giant Step For Humanity Did?And All Of Them Calluses For Palaces Built In The Sky, BoyMean Nothing To The Machine On The Day The Working Man Dies, BoyChorusThe Robot Killed The Working ManTook The Nail And Hammer Right Out Of His HandsSealed Up The Coffin, Sold Off The LandReplaced The Good Book With Machines In Their HandsSooner Or Later, More Soon Than NotThem Homegrown Tomatoes All Ripen Then RotWith No Rhyme Or Reason And No Helping HandThe Day The Robot Killed The Working ManBridgeAnd Brick By Brick, Them Mullen Boys Built This TownAnd Brick By Brick, Them Bastards Keep Tearing Me DownThere's No One To Be Angry At Every Time A Working Man FallsJust More Ads For Gambling And More Ads For More Of It AllChorusThe Robot Killed The Working ManTook The Nail And Hammer Right Out Of His HandsSealed Up The Coffin, Sold Off The LandReplaced The Good Book With Machines In Their HandsSooner Or Later, More Soon Than NotThem Homegrown Tomatoes All Ripen Then RotWith No Rhyme Or Reason And No Helping HandN.c.The Day The Robot Killed The Working Man
