Of a life below the stairs
Where the butler's boss, if 'e ain't 'joss'
An' the 'ousemaid puts on queenly hairs
It's a hempire so to speak
An' regular once a week
We takes a day, an' we blow our pay
It's our Sunday out
Chorus: On my Sunday out, On my Sunday out
I hallus togs hup ar lar mode
As I does a swagger down the road
I talks of 'my noble Par' as I puff at a big cigar
I gives the bloomin' street a 'tong'
Hon my Sunday out
I sneaks the guvnor's best tall 'at
And 'is dossy patent boots
I takes my ch'ice, if they're varry nice
Of 'is brand new 'ome-from -the-tailor suits
Then on my 'ands I shoves a pair of lavender gloves
I goes hout at the back, and I chance the sack
On my Sunday out
Chorus: On my Sunday out, On my Sunday out
I hallus togs hup arlar mode
As I does a swagger down the road
I talks of 'my noble Par' as I puff at a big cigar
You'd take me for a 'owlin' toff
Hon my Sunday out
I'm good to the gals in a fatherly way
If they're togged out nice and neat
No partickler one, for I favour none
Hemmer's a darlin'! Kate's a treat
But the gal of gals for me, is the one as contrives to see
As 'er missises kit, is a puffick fit
For 'er Sunday out
Chorus: On 'er Sunday out, that's my Sunday out
I hallus togs hup ar lar mode
As I does a swagger down the road
I talks of 'my noble Par' as I puff at a big cigar
You'd take me for a Hearl at least
Hon my Sunday out.
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