The Panic Is On - Loudon Wainwright III

What this country is comin' to

Some would like to know

If they don’t do something by and by

The rich will live and the poor will die

Doggone I mean the panic is on

Can’t get no work can’t draw no pay

Things are gettin' worser each and every day

Nothin' to eat no place to sleep

All night long folks are walkin' the street

Doggone I mean the panic is on

Saw a man this morning walking down the street

No shoes on his feet

You oughta seen the women in their flats

You could hear 'em sayin' «what kind of man is that?»

Doggone I mean the panic is on

All them landlords done raised the rent

Folks are gettin' broken and they’re badly bent

Where they get the dough from goodness knows

But if they don’t produce it in the street they go

Doggone I mean the panic is on

Some play numbers some read your mind

Some got rackets of all kinds

Some are trimmin' corns off of people’s feet

They got to do something just to make ends meet

Doggone I mean the panic is on

Some women sellin' apples some sellin' pie

Sellin' gin whiskey and rye

Some are sellin' socks to support their man

In fact some sellin' everything they can

Doggone I mean the panic is on

I’ve pawned my clothes I’ve pawned my everything

Pawned my jewlery my watch and ring

Pawned my razor but not my gun

If luck don’t change they’ll be some stealin' done

Doggone I mean the panic is on

Old prohibition’s ruined everything

That is why I must sing

Here’s one thing I want you all to hear

If they don’t bring back light wine gin and beer

Doggone the panic will be on