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Sunday On The Jar

  • (Brian McNeill)

    In the cold grey dawn of a Monday morn
    You rise from your weary bed
    And Tuesday comes with the beatin' drums
    Still throbbing in your head
    All week long it's a working song
    And Friday seems so far
    So you pray for the lend of a wild weekend
    And Sunday on the jar
    And it's Sunday, lazy Sunday on the jar

    Let the world beware when you're on the tear
    For a wild old Saturday night
    With eyes that gleam with the Devil's dream
    O' the lassies and the lights
    A night of bliss is a drunken kiss
    In the back of a rusty car
    And the lassies' guile brings a rueful smile
    To Sunday on the jar
    And it's Sunday, lazy Sunday on the jar

    There's those who say we should keep the day
    For the big man in the sky
    So I went up to the pearly gates
    To ask the reason why
    But all I found was the grand old sound
    Of a tune in a crowded bar
    And I found him there in the Angel's Arms
    Havin' Sunday on the jar
    And it's Sunday, sleepy Sunday on the jar
    Aye, Sunday, boozy Sunday on the jar

Susannes Folksong-Notizen

  • [1993:] The song sprang from a satisfied remark of Tom [McDonagh]'s over a peaceful Sabbath pint on the only halfway lazy day of a particularly manic German tour. (Notes Brian McNeill, 'Horses For Courses')

Quelle: Scotland

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