We enjoyed it so much last year, John wrote a song. Still I'm looking forward to a Shell meet BEDWORTH ON A SUNDAY(John Owen)Come day, go day, wish in my heart it weren't SundayNowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru', Bedworth on a SundayWe danced in the Civic on Saturday mornOn the stage with the audience belowWith six of the Morris who can dance and can singOur mistakes did not knacker the showCome day, go day, wish in my heart it weren't SundayNowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru', Bedworth on a SundayThat night in the Art Centre theatre we satAnd we sang every chorus and songWe drank real ale in tankards until none was leftNo one cared when the odd verse was wrongCome day, go day, wish in my heart it weren't SundayNowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru', Bedworth on a SundayAnd then to the Scout hut to sing some more songsAnd got our heads down for the nightWe never dreamed what the morning would bringWhen we stepped out into the daylightCome day, go day, wish in my heart it weren't SundayNowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru', Bedworth on a SundayBut remember in Bedworth at festival timeThat the wind whistles round the old squareAnd on Sunday morning there's naff all to doAnd you wish that you just weren't thereCome day, go day, wish in my heart it weren't SundayNowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru', Bedworth on a Sunday. Whyy did that come out lke junk - you get the picture anyway