All for shared responsibility
But I'm ducking out of it early
I'm not throwing out my back
I'm not standing in the sun
I'm not fixing my own car
I'm not painting the house
If you wanna see me sweat
Well, you're gonna need a gun

Work with your hands
Or have them cut off
Work with your hands
Or have them cut off
Work with your hands
Or have them cut off
Work with your hands

Take Marx and Engels
They aren't the sort of people
Who could sell me an ethos
Old and tired, not so appealing

Many hands make light lifting
But please don't dare include me
I'm not slaving at the mill
I'm not hanging off a truck
I'm not dying on the line
I'm not eating from a box
And if you wanna see me sweat
Well you're firmly out of luck
Bent well over your barrel
You lifted up a hill
You're not losing a finger
You're not getting black lung
You're not dying in a mineshaft
I'm not falling off the scaffold
If you wanna see me sweat
Sorry, not a fucking shot