Jesus was a working man, A hero as you shall hear. Born in the slums of Bethle-(Am)hem At the turning of the year, Yes, the turning of the year. When Jesus was a little lad. The streets rang with his name, For he argued with the aldermen And he put them all to shame. Yes he... He became a wandering journeyman And he wandered far and wide, And he saw how wealth and poverty Lived always side by side, Yes... He said, "Come all you working men, You farmers and weavers, too. If you will only organize, This world belongs to you, Yes... When the rich men heard what the carpenter had done, To the Roman troops they ran. Saying "Put this rebel Jesus down, He's a menace to god and man, Yes... Jesus walked among the poor For the poor were his own kind, And they wouldn't let the cops get near enough To take him from behind, Yes... So they hired one of the traitor's trade And a stool-pigeon was he And he sold his brother to the butcher's men For a fistful of silver money. Yes... When Jesus lay in the prisoner's cell, They beat him and offered him bribes To desert the cause of his own dear folk And work for the rich men's tribe, Yes... The commander of the occupying troops He laughed and then he said, "There's a cross to spare on Calvary Hill, By the weekend he'll be dead, Yes.. The sweat stood out upon his brow And the blood was in his eye, And they nailed his body to the Roman cross And they laughed as they watched him die, Yes.. Two thousand years have passed and gone, And many a hero too, But the dream of this poor carpenter At last it is coming true, Yes...