WHITE COLLAR HOLLER



Well, I rise up every morning at a quarter to eight

Some woman who's my wife tells me not to be late

I kiss the kids goodbye, I can't remember their names

And week after week, it's always the same



And it's Ho, boys, can't you code it, and program it right

Nothing ever happens in the life of mine

I'm hauling up the data on the Xerox line



Then it's code in the data, give the keyboard a punch

Then cross-correlate and break for some lunch

Correlate, tabulate, process and screen

Program, printout, regress to the mean



Then it's home again, eat again, watch some TV

Make love to my woman at ten-fifty-three

I dream the same dream when I'm sleeping at night

I'm soaring over hills like an eagle in flight



Someday I'm gonna give up all the buttons and things

I'll punch that time clock till it can't ring

Burn up my necktie and set myself free

Cause no'one's gonna fold, bend or mutilate me.



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Written by Nigel Russell and dedicated to the city of Bramalea,

Ontario, Canada.



Recorded by Stan Rogers on Between the Breaks - Live, Fogarty's

Cove Music, FCM-002

@computer @work

filename[ WHITCOLH

DC

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