Deacon of the church of little faith
A stalwart pillar of low society
A professional smile with eyes of ice
A deathly example of a living lie
He’s a preacher, he’s a lawyer, he’s a liar
He’s a man of God, he’s a sinner, a grinning world beater

Worship God the dollar in his plastic collar for a safe return
If heaven is your goal this man can save your soul
Pay him or go to hell

Squeaky clean kids with frightened eyes
A tired sad wife who hardly ever smiles
He’s your mate, a very close friend,
The guy next door, the man you never knew before
He’s a child of peace, he’s aggressive, he’s a bully
He’s a family man, he’s a drunkard, a vicious wife beater

Worship God the dollar …

His secretary bears his groping hands
She can’t leave, jobs are hard to find
She can’t tell, well, who’d believe her
He’s a saint, she’s only seventeen
He’s a shepherd, he’s a wolf, he’s a black sheep
He’s a priest – no, he’s a lecher, he’s a liar

Worship God the dollar …

Lyrics by Grant Shanks, music by Leigh Harrison © APRA 1980