Every Sunday morning, before daybreak   Down upon the farm, on the fishpond   All the little ducks, they go paddling   Look out goldfish your for breakfast         Sunday morning hear the churchbells ringing   High up in the trees the birds were singing In the dewey grass spiders spinning   Rooster calls and cocks his doodle   All around the farm animals stirring   Through the morning mist the bulls are beefing   In the grassy meadows cows are munching   Daisy Bell it's time for milking         There's such a lot to be done on the farm   In the sunshine, and when it's lunchtime   It's hop down the pub for a pint   Back on the tractor to finish the plowing         Standing all alone, Fred the scarecrow   Hasn't got a clue how the wheat grows   Doesn't mind the rain, hates the cold though   Specially when those icewinds blow snow         All along the lane, bees are buzzing   Little furry things in hedgerows scurrying   In amongst the corn the bunnies are bouncing   Must have springs upon their feet         Behind the cowshed   The plowman is taking a peek   At the farmer's daughter   Who's hanging her undies in the sun         Better get on your boots and join us   Down on the farm         Down here on the farm       It's a lovely day for country walking   The vicar's on his bike, Billy's skateboarding   The farmer and his dog out back shooting   The gun goes off and hits the tweeting (or: its stopped tweeting)      Lots of smelly stinks around the farmyard   Great big pile of sh..t behind the rhubarb   Sitting in his pram, baby bunting   Does a *BURP* and starts his grunting      Give him a drink, he's gone pink   Wants his mummy, needs changing I think   Such a lot can be done on the farm   In the sunshine   And when it's lunchtime   It's hop down the pub for a pint   Sneak out the backway with Nelly the barmaid   To the woods      Andrew Latimer Guitar    Peter Bardens Keyboards    Richard Sinclair Lead Vocals, Bass    Mel Collins Flute    Andy Ward Drums