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Well it's Sunday Again,

Or coming to a close,

With work that never ends,

And still a crate of dirty clothes,



And the girl is carryin' on,

About Holloywood and the crisis,

I should've gone a blonde,

And been a little more decisive.



But the weather is improving,

And we went to see my Sis',

And it's the ol' days at the Ranch,

That I really miss.



So I think I'll just get pickled,

Because Tomorrow never Knows,

And I'll rise up with a tickle,

And off to work I'll go.