Some folks are born to wave the flag, Ooh, theyīre red, white and blue. And when the band plays "Hail to the chief", Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord,
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no senatorīs son, son. It ainīt me, it ainīt me; I ainīt no fortunate one, no, Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand, Lord, donīt they help themselves, oh. But when the taxman comes to the door, Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no millionaireīs son, no. It ainīt me, it ainīt me; I ainīt no fortunate one, no.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes, Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord, And when you ask them, "How much should we give?" Ooh, they only answer More! more! more! yoh,
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no military son, son. It ainīt me, it ainīt me; I ainīt no fortunate one, one. It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no fortunate one, no no no, It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no fortunate son, no no no, |