I ain't gonna work in Mitten's country no more

Come November if the worst possible result happens.
I think we need a new "slave song".
Just for fun, this is!

All possible apologies to Bob Dylan.

I ain't gonna work in Mitten's country no more

I ain't gonna work in Mitten's country no more
No, I aint gonna work in Mitten's country no more
Well, I wake up in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for relief from the pain
He got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane
It's a shame the way he leveraged us, then showed us the door
I ain't gonna work in Mitten's country no more.

I ain't gonna believe Mitten's party no more
No, I aint gonna believe Mitten's party no more
Well, they hand you a nickel
Then ask you for a dime
They ask you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time
Then they fine you every time you slam the door
I ain't gonna work for Mitten's party more.

I ain't gonna work for Mitten's VP no more
No, I aint gonna work for Mitten's VP no more
Well, he puts his lies
Right in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks
The National Guard stands around his door
Ah, I ain't gonna work for Mitten's VP no more.

I ain't gonna work for Mitten's wife no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Mitten's wife no more
Well, when she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law
Everybody says
She's the brains behind Mitt.
She's sixty-three, but she says she's twenty-four
I ain't gonna work for Mitten's wife no more.

I ain't gonna work on Mitten's farm no more
I aint gonna work on Mitten's farm no more
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them
They say sing while you slave and I just get bored
I ain't gonna work on Mitten's farm no more.