Every Tuesday Sunday spied him
Wriggling round on a triangular mound
Let me teach you justice economics
Shillings and pence
You know they don't make no sense
How can you sell me sky and the rain
They're not of you however much you claim
Please don't let the colour of my skin
Flavour your culinary coq au vin
Vigour, vim and a perfect trim
It made him one sunny gym
I'd really like to be more than an arm's throw
Away from Mr Robinson Crusoe
Friday's daily dose of opiates
On my strict moral conscience it grates
So way of punishment I sent him down
To a bamboo prison in a bamboo town
Friday's puzzled looking old
He really can't tell what he's done wrong
Look Mr Crusoe, I can't dig this
Why punish yourself for an indulgence in bliss