I've seen them in plenty - a chap when he's twenty
Gets far away looks in his eyes
But one thing much worse is he writes loving verses
And causes his friends great surprise
His mother so meek'll buy brimstone and treacle
And fancy her boy's got the rash
The truth is young Bertie has met his first Gertie
And wants to be out on the mash.

Chorus: S.U.N.D.A.Y, that is Sunday
When all of the boys wear clothes
They've packed up in lavender ever since Monday
L.O.V.E seems to be in the air
And G.I.R.L is the cause of the whole affair.

It's soon afternoon tea - ev'ry Sunday you'll see
Bertie get his top-hat from the box
Loud waist-coats he'll try on, and must have a tie on
To match his cheap heliotrope socks
With hair nicely greased, and his trousers well creased
Then you know that he's up to some game
Now fellows, don't wriggle, and, girls don't you giggle
You know very well who's to blame.


His fringe he will goffer, and sit on the sofa
And gaze at his beautiful queen
They cuddle with vigour, so close is each figure
You can't get a sixpence between
He'll promise to buy her a ring, the young flier
And other nice things he will do
He says, 'Darling, soon we'll have our honeymoon.'
And sweet Gertie just murmurs, 'Goo-goo.'


Performed by Vesta Tilley 1864-1952)
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