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  • Times are tough for English babies
    Send the army and the navy
    Beat up strangers who talk funny
    Take their greasy foreign money
    Skin shop, red leather, hot line
    Be prepared for the engaged sign
    Bridal books, engagement rings
    And other wicked little things
    [Chorus:]
    Standing in your socks and vest
    Better get it off your chest
    Every day is just like the rest
    But Sunday's best
    Stylish slacks to suit your pocket
    Back supports and picture lockets
    Sleepy towns and sleeper trains
    To the dogs and down the drains
    Major roads and ladies smalls
    Hearts of oak and long trunk calls
    Continental interference
    At death's door with life insurance
    [Chorus]
    Sunday's best, Sunday's finest
    When your money's in the minus
    And you suffer from your shyness
    You can listen to us whiners
    Don't look now under the bed
    An arm, a leg and a severed head
    Read about the private lives
    The songs of praise, the readers' wives
    Listen to the decent people
    Though you treat them just like sheep
    Put them all in boots and khaki
    Blame it all upon the darkies
    [Chorus]
    Sunday's best
  • Times are tough for English babies
    Send the army and the navy
    Beat up strangers who talk funny
    Take their greasy foreign money
    Skin shop, red leather, hot line
    Be prepared for the engaged sign
    Bridal books, engagement rings
    And other wicked little things
    [Chorus:]
    Standing in your socks and vest
    Better get it off your chest
    Every day is just like the rest
    But Sunday's best
    Stylish slacks to suit your pocket
    Back supports and picture lockets
    Sleepy towns and sleeper trains
    To the dogs and down the drains
    Major roads and ladies smalls
    Hearts of oak and long trunk calls
    Continental interference
    At death's door with life insurance
    [Chorus]
    Sunday's best, Sunday's finest
    When your money's in the minus
    And you suffer from your shyness
    You can listen to us whiners
    Don't look now under the bed
    An arm, a leg and a severed head
    Read about the private lives
    The songs of praise, the readers' wives
    Listen to the decent people
    Though you treat them just like sheep
    Put them all in boots and khaki
    Blame it all upon the darkies
    [Chorus]
    Sunday's best