Sunday Street Lyrics - Squeeze

(Difford/Tilbrook) 

I'm down the lane on Sunday morning 

Hung over and forever yawning 

I look for trousers that will fit me 

She buys a yellow shirt that's sickly 

A sarsaparilla drink turns white teeth shades of pink 

Sunday league play in the sunshine 

I hear the whistle blow at halftime 

With chapped legs and muddy shorts 

They walk home past the tennis courts 

A pint of prawns in hand 

I hear a ragtime band 

On Monday 

I want the weekend to come 

On Tuesday 

I'm glad that Monday is done 

Then Wednesday 

And Thursday fly by 

Then on Friday and Saturday night 

We get happy till Sunday is through 

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Siesta time in the living room 

Snores go in and out of tune 

After tea time we're off to the pub 

To play in the trivia club 

How long's the river Thames? 

It's where the evening ends 

In my bed I'm reading poetry 

No one knows what's come over me 

I close the book and turning out the light 

I hear the sound of Monday outside 

Photos