I Hate Sunday

I hate Sunday

When the postman don't come

And there's nothin' to do

But think about how much I miss hearin' from you

And Sunday drags on

And I can't, no I can't wait for Monday

I don't mind Saturday

Well, nobody does

Except maybe the bosses

'Cause even if you miss the last boat on Friday

There's parties across the road

I don't mind, I don't mind Saturday

But I hate Sunday

The postman don't come

And my cupboard is empty

Just soggy old sandwiches, stale beer and bad-goin' tater chips Smile at my guitar and yell 'cause he's stone-deaf from Saturday

I don't wanna wake up to your letter on Monday

'Cause I, I really hate Sunday

Oh, I hate Sunday

When the postman don't come

And my cupboard is empty

Just soggy old sandwiches, stale beer and bad-goin' tater chips Smile at my guitar and yell 'cause he's stone-deaf from Saturday

I don't wanna wake up to your letter on Monday

'Cause I, I really hate Sunday

I really hate Sunday

Oh, I hate Sunday

Oh, I hate Sunday

I really hate Sunday

I really hate Sunday