Letra de Sunday street

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 sarsparilla 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 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