Bob Dylan

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  G
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Well, I wake up in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane.
        Em                                    D
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
  G
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.

  G
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
Well, he hands you a nickel,
He hands you a dime, he asks you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time,
         Em                                D
Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
  G
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.

  G
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks.
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks.
    Em                                D
The National Guard stands around his door.
      G
Ah, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.

  G
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
Well, she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law.
Everybody says
She's the brains behind pa.
    Em                                D
She's sixty-eight, but she says she's fifty-four.
  G
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.

  G
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am,
But everybody wants you
To be just like them.
           Em
They say "sing while you slave,"
                D
And I just get bored.
  G
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.