Without so much as “how d’you do sir?” or “appreciate it, thanks!”
They took money from our pockets and gave it to the banks
Who came collecting on the mortgage and put us on the street
Where we’ve been scratching for survival, sleeping on our feet
‘Cause the cops would come to roust us when we found a place to lie
Unwelcome back in town we tried gave the countryside a try
But the farmers they don’t want us ‘cause the river’s running dry
What are working folks to do?
Well I guess we’re supposed to die
What are working folks to do?
I guess we’re supposed to die

When the boss shut down the factory he put a big sign on the door
“You fellas clear on out, ain’t no men wanted here n o more”
The government man he queued us up for charity instead
‘Til so many hungry people showed they ran all outta bread
When we’re getting’ weaker by the minute like cattle being bled
Who’ll work the mines and mills and farms if there are better times ahead?
So I buttonholed the bankerman and this is what I said:
What are you fat cats gonna do
When us working folks are dead?
What are you fat cats gonna do sir
When us working folks are dead?

When after ’29 and ’30, ’31 and ’32
You’ve lost all hope of finding work an honest man can do
So you’ve got  no better answer to “daddy what else can we try?”
Than what are working folks to do son–
I guess we’re supposed to die
What are working folks to do son?
I guess we’re supposed to die