You are a regular brute of a man You clench your nails and your knuckles in your hand Oh, come on take a shot for the proletariat You've a knife in your pocket and a feather in your cap Oh, I was very serious with books about my head I couldn't write, but read 'em all before I went to bed Didn't I Bags of gold Gold Gold Gold There are pretty ways to get your gold for free You can wonder at the bottom of the deep hollow tree It climbed the bark and scared the branch It grows in all the leaves And now its ripe for the picking for the other petty fees Oh, I am in the city now I'm slaving for a wage If I ever want a bag of gold I'll have to wait an age Bags of gold Bags of gold Gold Gold Gold Oh, gold Oh, bags of gold Cape a ball of direction Oh, any honest man I will keep on working for them anybody can Bags of gold Gold Gold Gold