BEDWORTH ON A SUNDAY(John Owen)

Come day, go day,
wish in my heart it weren't Sunday
Nowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru',
Bedworth on a Sunday

We danced in the Civic on Saturday morn
On the stage with the audience below
With six of the Morris who can dance and can sing
Our mistakes did not knacker the show

Come day, go day,
wish in my heart it weren't Sunday
Nowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru',
Bedworth on a Sunday

That night in the Art Centre theatre we sat
And we sang every chorus and song
We drank real ale in tankards until none was left
No one cared when the odd verse was wrong

Come day, go day, wish in my heart it weren't Sunday
Nowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru',
Bedworth on a Sunday

And then to the Scout hut to sing some more songs
And got our heads down for the night
We never dreamed what the morning would bring
When we stepped out into the daylight

Come day, go day,
wish in my heart it weren't Sunday
Nowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru',
Bedworth on a Sunday

But remember in Bedworth at festival time
That the wind whistles round the old square
And on Sunday morning there's naff all to do
And you wish that you just weren't there

Come day, go day,
wish in my heart it weren't Sunday
Nowhere's open, the wind cuts you thru',
Bedworth on a Sunday.

There you go, Ali. Difference being, that this year the Shellbacks are leading the Sunday morning survivors' sing, so Bedworth on a Sunday 2001 will be THE place to be!