He was born in a humble cottage, built by his mum and dad
The doctor brought him forth and held him up, said "this is when it starts to get bad
The land was dry and barren, the animals nearly gone
They've already got seven children, another they can barely afford
It ain't gonna get better, it ain't gonna get better, it ain't gonna get better than it is today
He loved Sweet Rosie Brown, from the farm down the way
Her father was a strict preacher man, who said the boy was profane
The boy said I don't believe in the bible, Rosie said that's okay
You can take me, here in the grass, but listen to what I have to say
It ain't gonna get better, it ain't gonna get better, it ain't gonna get better than it is today
Preacher Brown got to hunting, to take the devil from their souls
When we find them, he told his flock, we shall blind them with gold
It is their fault that you suffer, that your lands yield no gain
Give to me, follow me and together we shall remove this filthy stain