We're Sick of It (A Working Man Ain't a Punchline)

[Spoken Intro — low, steady]
I was raised to say "yes, sir."
To look a man in the eye.
And if somebody was working,
you got out of his way.

[Verse 1]
I grew up when men were men and boys were boys,
And being decent mattered more than making noise.
You could leave your screen door open, trust a neighbor with a key,
And a handshake meant exactly what a handshake ought to mean.
We weren't saints, and we weren't rich, and we sure weren't always right,
But you didn't make a joke of someone else's working life.

[Verse 2]
Saw a man beside a freezer stocking boxes on a shelf,
Trying to earn an honest dollar, minding nobody but himself.
Some young fellas asked the time, then held a telephone up high,
Made a beep and claimed they'd taken ten bucks from the guy.
They called it just a prank; I watched the worry on his face.
There's nothing funny 'bout putting fear in a working man's day.

[Chorus]
We're sick of it, we're tired of it,
Tired of watching common decency get kicked.
Kindness ain't a weakness, and a working man ain't a trick.
If your laugh costs somebody peace,
Then it ain't worth one red cent of it.
We want our trust, our word, our country back—
And we're sick of it.

[Verse 3]
Now I'm not blaming every kid; there's good ones everywhere,
But somebody's got to teach 'em that respect still matters here.
Mamas, daddies, don't look off and say, "That's just the way they are."
A boy who never learns a line may cross one way too far.
And an audience that cheers him on ain't innocent, you see;
When cruelty gets rewarded, that's the kind of world we'll be.

[Instrumental — short biting Telecaster solo]

[Bridge — nearly spoken]
I'm not calling for a fistfight.
I'm calling for a spine.
For parents raising children
Who know yours ain't always mine.
For standing with the cashier,
The driver, and the stockroom crew.
You want a better country?
Then be somebody people can trust, too.

[Final Chorus — firmer, full band]
We're sick of it, we're tired of it,
And we won't call a cruel joke harmless just to fit.
Kindness ain't surrender; it's the backbone of this land.
We can take our country back
With some truth and a helping hand.
Let respect be worth something, let your word mean what it did—
We're sick of it.
Yeah, we're sick of it.

[Spoken Outro — music drops]
A working man ain't your punchline.
Put that phone down.
Show some respect.

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[Spoken Intro — low, steady] I was raised to say "yes, sir." To look a man in the eye. And if somebody was working, you got out of his way. [Verse 1] I grew up when men were men and boys were boys, And being decent mattered more than making noise. You could leave your screen door open, trust a neighbor with a key, And a handshake meant exactly what a handshake ought to mean. We weren't saints, and we weren't rich, and we sure weren't always right, But you didn't make a joke of someone else's working life. [Verse 2] Saw a man beside a freezer stocking boxes on a shelf, Trying to earn an honest dollar, minding nobody but himself. Some young fellas asked the time, then held a telephone up high, Made a beep and claimed they'd taken ten bucks from the guy. They called it just a prank; I watched the worry on his face. There's nothing funny 'bout putting fear in a working man's day. [Chorus] We're sick of it, we're tired of it, Tired of watching common decency get kicked. Kindness ain't a weakness, and a working man ain't a trick. If your laugh costs somebody peace, Then it ain't worth one red cent of it. We want our trust, our word, our country back— And we're sick of it. [Verse 3] Now I'm not blaming every kid; there's good ones everywhere, But somebody's got to teach 'em that respect still matters here. Mamas, daddies, don't look off and say, "That's just the way they are." A boy who never learns a line may cross one way too far. And an audience that cheers him on ain't innocent, you see; When cruelty gets rewarded, that's the kind of world we'll be. [Chorus] We're sick of it, we're tired of it, Tired of watching common decency get kicked. Kindness ain't a weakness, and a working man ain't a trick. If your laugh costs somebody peace, Then it ain't worth one red cent of it. We want our trust, our word, our country back— And we're sick of it. [Instrumental — short biting Telecaster solo] [Bridge — nearly spoken] I'm not calling for a fistfight. I'm calling for a spine. For parents raising children Who know yours ain't always mine. For standing with the cashier, The driver, and the stockroom crew. You want a better country? Then be somebody people can trust, too. [Final Chorus — firmer, full band] We're sick of it, we're tired of it, And we won't call a cruel joke harmless just to fit. Kindness ain't surrender; it's the backbone of this land. We can take our country back With some truth and a helping hand. Let respect be worth something, let your word mean what it did— We're sick of it. Yeah, we're sick of it. [Spoken Outro — music drops] A working man ain't your punchline. Put that phone down. Show some respect.

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