Mr. Monday

Mr. Monday

He gets up at eight o’clock
On cold clear winter days
He eats his food at half past eight
And clears the pots away

He drives his car in the city streets
And he meets along the way
lot of tall dark people
Who stand there all the day

He’s Mister Monday
He works all day from nine to five
He’s Mister Monday
He lives alone in the city

I see him in the evening 
I pass him at the door
I say, “Hello, how are you?”
And I know he’s very poor

He looks at the street through his window
He watches the people pass by
He loves little dogs and children
And he never tells a lie

He’s Mister Monday, etc.