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Well, I ain't got much bread but it's alright |
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I got the sun in the morning, got the moon at night |
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Said, I ain't got much bugs in my bin, Sam |
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Have another mother's ruin makes you feel alright |
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Ah, who is it for? We shall overdraw. |
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Well, I don't talk like them but I don't care much |
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I got a rich man's trumpet, poor man's crutch |
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Maybe I like to live on Diner's Club and Dow-Jones |
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But it's all one big community chest and chance will break my bones |
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Who so ever, what so ever it's for? We shall overdraw. |
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Oh, there's notice on the door, we shall overdraw. |
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Well, I have to think of contracts in the morning |
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Could I scratch their backs? Should they kiss my ring? |
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Will they, will they jump me without warning? |
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Making noises like a banker seems the only way to sin? |
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Go out to your neighbourhood greenback store, we shall overdraw. |
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Overdraw. |
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Oh Mr. Banker, won't you send some bread to me? |
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You know I've just been busted and I need some security |
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Oh Mr. Banker, won't you write this song for us? |
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In ture taste you've relented, there's no grizzle in my lush. |
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Well Mr. Ridley's bought a Bentley, Mr. Oldham sold his Rolls |
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Mrs. Winston's fixing guineas, Mr. Carter's digging holes |
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We'd like to thank you people for listening to our song |
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We hope you get to hear the rest of the lyric before they drop a bomb. |
