♪ ♪ The boats are moored, maids with their bags full of rag-bag news. ♪ ♪ When the man plays the player to the tune of the poet who can't choose. ♪ ♪ It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son. It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no politician's son. ♪ ♪ The boats are moored, silver spoon in hand. Lord, don't you help them sail. But when the taxman comes to the door. Lord, there ain't no life for me to sail. ♪ ♪ It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no mayor's son. It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no politician's son. ♪ ♪ ♪ Lord, some folks are heavy, they are specialized. Oh, they're sinking down the wall. But when you ask them, how much shall we give? Oh Lord, I answer, my oh no, no. ♪ ♪ It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no mayor's son. It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no politician's son. It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son. ♪ It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortuneteller, I ain't no fortuneteller, I ain't no fortuneteller's son.