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Too soon to be out of my bed,
Too soon to be back at this bus queue caper,
Or searching for change for my picture paper,
On a Monday morning.
Wrong end of the week for a smile,
Wrong end of the day for being civil,
There's many a Saint would be a devil,
On a Monday morning.
Where is the weekend now?
Where is the Whiskey and beer I tasted?
Gone the same way as the pay I wasted,
On a Monday morning.
If only the birds would booze,
If only the sun was a party giver,
If I could just lend someone else my liver,
On a Monday morning.
My lover she lies asleep,
My lover is warm and her heart is mellow.
I'd trade you the world just to share her pillow,
On a Monday morning.
Too soon to be out of my bed,
To soon to be back at this bus queue caper,
Or searching for change for my picture paper,
On a Monday morning.
Metadata
Attribution:
Cyril Tawney