Sunday Street - Squeeze

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

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