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Maggie’s Farm

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

It's a shame

The way she makes me

Scrub the floor

I ain't gonna work on, nah

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more

Nah, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more

Well, he hands you a nickel

And he hands you a dime

And he asks you with a grin

If you're havin' a good time

Then he fines you every time you slam the door

I ain't gonna work for, nah

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no moreI 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

The National Guard stands around his door

I ain't gonna work, nah

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more

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

And everybody says

She's the brains behind pa

She's sixty-eight, but she says she's twenty-four

I ain't gonna work for, nah

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no moreI 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

They sing while they slave and just get bored

I ain't gonna work on, nah

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

Songwriters

Bob DylanPublished by

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