I'M USING SUNDAY LANGUAGE ALL THE WEEK
 
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A happy married man was I until the evil day
My missis went to help a cook somewhere the West End way
The place was kept by 'gentle folks', a mansion in Park Lane
And what I call their stuck-up ways has got upon her brain
It's hard to change one's habits when a man is getting old
But just for peace and quietness, I do just what I'm told.

Refrain: I mustn't have my breakfast in my nightshirt
With my pair of braces dangling on the floor
I mustn't give a whistle when I'm getting near the house
I have to give a rat-tat on the door
I'll just give you an instance how I have to pick and choose
The words that your poor humble has to speak
When I'm 'stoney-broke' I say that I'm 'financially embarrassed'
'Cos I'm using Sunday language all the week.

O'er everything I do and say she has to run the rule
The atmosphere in our house is like a Sunday school
I 'copped out' only yesterday because to her I said
'I'd like a piece of pudden' but i got some tongue instead
She said, 'Please don't forget next time that there is no such thing
As 'pudden' it is pudding - with the accent on the ding.'

Refrain: I often wished that I lived out in Russia
Where perhaps a bit more freedom I should get
I used to have a 'Liker' at the betting every day
Now all I have to study's 'Etiquette'
And if my pals to have a drink should ask me now and then
They look at me and fancy I'm a freek
For instead of saying, 'Not half' it's 'I acquiesce with pleasure'
'Cos I'm using Sunday language all the week.

I used to 'Start for graft' once, but she says it's quite absurd
So now I 'go to business' for that's the proper word
We never take our togs off, for a doss it isn't right
We 'disrobe in the boudour' and 'retire for the night'
And should I feel a tummy ache, the truth I mustn't tell
It's a 'spasm in the abdomen' - that's French for 'darby kell'

Refrain: I hardly speak in case I make a 'bloomer'
And often feel inclined to kick the pup
Especially when she goes to get a shovel and a broom
Because she wants to sweep my H's up
And if on Christmas Day I want to have the Parson's nose
That portion which is farthest from the beak
I say, 'Will you oblige me with the clergyman's probiscis?'
'Cos I'm using Sunday language all the week.

Her latest is a 'dinner gong' outside the 'dining room'
Where she punishes a tea-tray wiith the butt-end of the broom
And if she's short of coppers for the slot gas, Mary Ann
Will send me out to 'cash a cheque', that's twopence on a can
And when we've fish for breakfast, which is every day almost
I mustn't call them bloaters - no, they're 'humming birds on toast'.

Refrain: If I should leave my watch along with 'Uncle'
To mention I have pawned it is a crime
I have to say, 'A gentleman has handed me his card'
And I stayed with him awhile to 'pass the time'
And when my only trousers wanted mending in the rear
I didn't tell the wife I'd sprung a leak
I said, 'Lord Rothschild's country seat is not a patch on mine.'
'Cos I'm using Sunday language all the week.

 
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Written and composed by Edgar Bateman & Bennett Scott - 1910
Performed by Harry Randall (1857-1932)
 
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