Jesus was a working manC DmAnd a hero you will hearC Dm AmBorn in the town of BethlehemDm GmAt the turning of the yearA7 DmAt the turning of the yearWhen Jesus was a little ladStreets rang with his nameFor he argued with the older menAnd put them all to shameHe put them all to shameHe became a wandering journeymanAnd he traveled far and wideAnd he noticed how wealth and povertyLive always side by sideLive always side by sideSo he said "Come you working menFarmers and weavers tooIf you would only stand as oneThis world belongs to youThis world belongs to you"
When the rich men heard what the carpenter had doneTo the Roman troops they ranSaying put this rebel Jesus downHe's a menace to God and manHe's a menace to God and manThe commander of the occupying troopsJust laughed and then he said"There's a cross to spare on Calvaries hillBy the weekend he'll be deadBy the weekend he'll be dead"Now Jesus walked among the poorFor the poor were his own kindAnd they'd never let them get near enoughTo take him from behindTo take him from behindSo they hired one of the traders tradeAnd an informer was heAnd he sold his brother to the butchers menFor a fistful of silver moneyFor a fistful of silver moneyAnd Jesus sat in the prison cellAnd they beat him and offered him bribesTo desert the cause of his fellow manAnd work for the rich men's tribe,To work for the rich men's tribeAnd the sweat stood out on Jesus' browAnd the blood was in his eyeWhen they nailed his body to the Roman crossAnd they laughed as they watched him dieThey laughed as they watched him dieTwo thousand years have passed and goneMany a hero tooBut the dream of this poor carpenterRemains in the hands of youRemains in the hands of you
When the rich men heard what the carpenter had doneTo the Roman troops they ranSaying put this rebel Jesus downHe's a menace to God and manHe's a menace to God and manThe commander of the occupying troopsJust laughed and then he said"There's a cross to spare on Calvaries hillBy the weekend he'll be deadBy the weekend he'll be dead"Now Jesus walked among the poorFor the poor were his own kindAnd they'd never let them get near enoughTo take him from behindTo take him from behindSo they hired one of the traders tradeAnd an informer was heAnd he sold his brother to the butchers menFor a fistful of silver moneyFor a fistful of silver moneyAnd Jesus sat in the prison cellAnd they beat him and offered him bribesTo desert the cause of his fellow manAnd work for the rich men's tribe,To work for the rich men's tribeAnd the sweat stood out on Jesus' browAnd the blood was in his eyeWhen they nailed his body to the Roman crossAnd they laughed as they watched him dieThey laughed as they watched him dieTwo thousand years have passed and goneMany a hero tooBut the dream of this poor carpenterRemains in the hands of youRemains in the hands of you