Lyrics:

The hooter wakes me up to face the day again.
I wish that it would bloody go away again!
Monday's bad, and Tuesday's worse, Wednesday, Thursday, just a curse;
But Friday's payday; fill the purse and pray again.

My wife she's growing round the waist, we're wild again.
The priest gives thanks that we've been "blessed with child" again,
After five I said 'no more', I'd never touch her, that I swore.
But the priest says "that's what loving's for." Beguiled again!

They've moved us to this bloody block of flats again.
Before we'd been here long we had the rats again.
The kids play on a piece of scrub; we haven't even got a pub.
But the priest - he's formed a social club. Rush mats again!

They built a special factory for work again.
Said 'it's a great job for you, don't shirk again.'
I stand around and tighten screws, and dream about a glass of booze.
Whichever way you turn, you lose, a berk again.

The car's packed up, I can't afford repairs again.
But the company's paid dividends on shares again.
The bloody telly's on the blink, and something's blocked the kitchen sink,
But the boss's mistress earned her mink, upstairs again.

The Thirties are a memory for Dad again.
He tells me "things can never be that bad again."
But from Jarrow and from Clyde they'll come, with silent hearts and muffled drum.
We want the cake, and not the crumb. We're mad again!