Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, theyīre red, white and blue
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief"
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no senatorīs son, son
It ainīt me, it ainīt me; I ainīt no fortunate one, no
Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, donīt they help themselves, oh
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no millionaireīs son, no
It ainīt me, it ainīt me; I ainīt no fortunate one, no
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask them, "How much should we give?"
Ooh, they only answer More! more! more! yoh
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no military son, son
It ainīt me, it ainīt me; I ainīt no fortunate one, one
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no fortunate one, no no no
It ainīt me, it ainīt me, I ainīt no fortunate son, no no no