Hand in his hand though the park   All afternoon   A fine day to fly balloons or tell him a story   Hand in his hand to wonder   Till day is done   Sunday father and son   Sundays are theres to explore   Alone by law   One day to keep the two from turning to strangers   One day to know the answers   Be firm , be fun   Sunday father and son   The father weaves though the weekend streets   Sunday done, monday comin' on   He leaves the child by a modest home   That they share no more   With the woman who waits indoors   Till she knows he's gone   Where are the words or the games   A place to go   Someway to let him know you want to be with him   Somehow it's always ending   Just half begun   Sunday father and son   Sunday father and son