When Sunday Comes

When Sunday comes, and father’s home,

     A hush comes o’er the house;

‘Tis then we know we’ve got to keep

     As quiet as a mouse.

‘Cuz father’s nerves are out of tune,

     He’ll start at every sound;

And so a pall comes over all

     When Sunday comes around.

Our books and toys are put away,

     Our clothes are stiff and clean;

And all the day we sit and squirm

     And feel most awful mean.

‘Cuz father wants to read or sleep

     With silence full profound;

So that’s the way we pass the day

     When Sunday comes around.

When Sunday comes around I wish

     That Pa would go away;

I wish he’d go a-fishin’ else

     He’d go to church and stay.

And soon as he was gone I’d go

     Just out of mother’s sound,

And holler good an hour, I would,

     When Sunday came around.

March 12, ‘01