Sunday morning nightmare
Head do's throb
Drunk a bottle of whisky
At least twenty shots.
Sunday morning nightmare
There’s nothing queer as folk
Went to bed with a woman
But woke up with a bloke.
Sunday morning nightmare
Trying to be quite as a mouse
Where the **** am I
This ain’t my ****** house.
Sunday morning nightmare
The wife didn’t look so glum
She said you *******
You weren’t having all the fun.
Sunday morning nightmare
We walked slowly back home
Went to our beds
And slept
soundly alone.