| Jesus was a working man
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| And a hero you will hear
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| Born in the town of Bethlehem
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| At the turning of the year
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| At the turning of the year
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| When Jesus was a little lad
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| Streets rang with his name
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| For he argued with the older men
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| And put them all to shame
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| He put them all to shame
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| He became a wandering journeyman
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| And he traveled far and wide
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| And he noticed how wealth and poverty
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| Live always side by side
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| Live always side by side
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| So he said «Come you working men
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| Farmers and weavers too
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| If you would only stand as one
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| This world belongs to you
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| This world belongs to you»
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| When the rich men heard what the carpenter had done
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| To the Roman troops they ran
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| Saying put this rebel Jesus down
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| He’s a menace to God and man
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| He’s a menace to God and man
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| The commander of the occupying troops
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| Just laughed and then he said
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| «There's a cross to spare on Calvaries hill
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| By the weekend he’ll be dead
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| By the weekend he’ll be dead»
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| Now Jesus walked among the poor
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| For the poor were his own kind
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| And they’d never let them get near enough
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| To take him from behind
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| To take him from behind
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| So they hired one of the traders trade
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| And an informer was he
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| And he sold his brother to the butchers men
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| For a fistful of silver money
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| For a fistful of silver money
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| And Jesus sat in the prison cell
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| And they beat him and offered him bribes
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| To desert the cause of his fellow man
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| And work for the rich men’s tribe
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| To work for the rich men’s tribe
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| And the sweat stood out on Jesus' brow
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| And the blood was in his eye
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| When they nailed his body to the Roman cross
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| And they laughed as they watched him die
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| They laughed as they watched him die
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| Two thousand years have passed and gone
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| Many a hero too
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| But the dream of this poor carpenter
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| Remains in the hands of you
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| Remains in the hands of you |